


Dirty Deeds: A BoKuroAka Kink Collection

by Crown_of_Winterthorne



Series: Kinktober 2016 [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Bondage, Choking References, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Ficlet Collection, Future Fic, Kinktober 2016, Light BDSM, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Piercings, Praise Kink, Roleplay, Safewords, Shibari, Sounding, Spanking, Spitroasting, Tattoos, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 18,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9965519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crown_of_Winterthorne/pseuds/Crown_of_Winterthorne
Summary: As the title suggests, this is a collection of kinky BoKuroAka (and variations of the three) drabbles and ficlets, originally written for Kinktober.Please heed the tags, chapter titles and chapter notes for pairings, kinks and warnings.





	1. BoKuroo: Spanking

**Author's Note:**

> The ship will be in the chapter title, as will the kink. Ratings vary from T+ to Explicit. Expect lots of fluff, angst, and smut. Some of the kinks were changed, depending on what I felt comfortable writing.
> 
> Prompts that are skipped because they got their own standalone fics will be noted (along with links).
> 
> Happy reading, my dears!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Spanking  
> BoKuroo  
> Explicit
> 
> Set sometime during University.

It happened by accident. When it came to sex, they were open-minded to say the least. Most things that they tried were natural progressions or offhand suggestions. Nothing that required much discussion. Sometimes they'd try something new in the heat of the moment, but this was different. It caught them both off guard.

Kuroo looked over his shoulder with huge eyes. They had both gone still at the sound of the slap—he only noticed the sting afterwards—and he reflexively rubbed at the spot on his ass.

“Shit, Tetsu—” Bokuto started. “I'm sorry, babe, I—”

“Do it again.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Do it again,” Kuroo repeated. His pupils were blown wide and his cheeks flushed. “I think I liked it.”

Nodding, Bokuto took a steadying breath and started flexing his hips again, fucking shallowly into Kuroo. A little hesitantly, he slapped Kuroo’s ass in time to one of his forward thrusts.

“Harder,” Kuroo stifled a laugh. “I'm not gonna break, babe.”

“I know that!” he blushed. “It's just… are you sure? You _know_ how hard I can hit.”

“So don't hit my ass like it's a fucking volleyball! Just… y’know. Hard enough to feel it, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” he nodded, flicking a lock of hair out of his eyes with a toss of his head. The style was long gone, the gel lost to sweat and Kuroo’s grabbing hands.

Hands that were now occupied with fisting the sheets, Kuroo’s face buried into the crook of his elbow as he lifted his hips higher so that Bokuto could fuck into him faster, harder, and at a better angle. The brush of Bokuto’s tip against his prostate left him gasping, but he wanted even more, that extra bit of sensation, eager for it now that he’d felt it once. He was filled with anticipation for a slap that didn’t come and the waiting sent a new kind of tension down his spine. He opened his mouth to ask for it again, to reassure Bokuto if he needed to. To beg if he had to.

The _crack!_ of skin against skin was startling. This time he felt it before he heard it, the sting of Bokuto’s callused palm. The sound was sharp, a punctuation to their panting breaths, to the creaking of bedsprings and sweat-slick bodies slamming together. The pain was nothing short of invigorating.

Kuroo groaned, digging his fingers into the bedding, and Bokuto took that as a good sign. He smoothed his hand over the bright pink mark he’d left, feeling the same kind of pleasure that filled him whenever he marked Kuroo’s neck and throat up with his mouth.

“Again?” he asked, almost hopefully this time.

“ _Fuck_ , yeah.”

This time, Kuroo didn’t have to wait. The slap came almost immediately, followed quickly by two more, laid down each time Bokuto thrust into him with a sharp shove of his hips. It was good, so good, and he moaned his approval. He wondered, thoughts halfway to scattered, what it would be like to let Bokuto lay him out and spank him properly. To warm his skin up with softer smacks before laying into him with bruising wallops and then fuck his sore ass while Kuroo squirmed.

It was a heady thought. One that sent new pulses of heat down into his belly and made his already-weeping cock ache. The idea that came to him next—a vivid image of the tables turned and Bokuto begging beneath his hand—made Kuroo cry out helplessly.

“You close?” Bokuto spoke into his ear, his breath hot and his body heavy as he draped himself over Kuroo. He pressed his mouth to Kuroo’s shoulders, kissing and biting like he’d leave a mark there too. His hand, palm still tingling, slid around the curve of Kuroo’s hip to grasp his cock.

Gasping, Kuroo arched beneath him and Bokuto smiled against his tanned skin. He ran his thumb over the tip just once, then started to stroke him with firm, quick pulls of his hand. He felt Kuroo tighten around his own cock and it made him hiss out, “ _T-Tetsuuu_ …”

They were reduced to wordless encouragements, to slurred versions of each other’s names, and almost desperate slides and shoves of their bodies. It wasn’t graceful, wasn’t gentle, nor did they want it to be. It didn’t need to be. They only needed each other and the heat and friction and if pleasure and pain blurred, then that simply made it better.

Kuroo reached down to dig his fingers into Bokuto’s arm where it wrapped around his waist, pressing his face into the sheets as he moaned, eyes closed and face twisted. He could feel himself at that edge, razor sharp and closer with every thrust of Bokuto’s cock. It was always so good, the two of them. He felt hot, heavy, breathless. Everything was centered down, down, down...

Bokuto’s hand on his cock. Bokuto’s cock in his ass. Bokuto’s bruises on his ass.

His marks. His desire. His love.

Kuroo came with a half-shout. “Fuck!”

Echoing the curse, Bokuto held Kuroo a little tighter, feeling the shudder of his body inside and out. The contractions around his cock, the stutter of Kuroo’s hips and the hot slickness of Kuroo’s come… It was so good. It was _always_ good with Kuroo, but what sent him over the edge was the way Kuroo moaned his name and begged for more. That was _amazing_.

“T-Tetsu,” he panted, thrusts growing quicker, shallower, more erratic, “Tetsu, I’m gonna—”

He buried himself into Kuroo one last time, spilling inside of him—thick and hot—gripping his hips hard enough to bruise. Kuroo’s name remained upon his lips throughout and for that brief, wonderful moment, his world went white and all that mattered was the pleasure, the heat and Kuroo.

When they could breathe normally again, Bokuto collapsed beside Kuroo, pulling him to lay half-draped across his chest. He ran a hand through Kuroo’s hair, pushing the messy black locks away from his face, and they grinned at each other.

“So that was new,” Bokuto said, eyes bright. “The spanking, I mean.”

“I liked it,” Kuroo leaned forward to kiss him. “It felt fucking awesome. We should do it again sometime.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Maybe let me spank you too?” he suggested with a smile and an arched brow.

“I could be open to that.” He said it with a blush and some uncertainty, but Bokuto was already picturing himself laid out for Kuroo on their bed, ass raised and reddened. He could hear himself begging for more and Kuroo alternately teasing and praising him.

His blush darkened and Kuroo chuckled. “Oho? Could be or definitely?”

“Stop,” Bokuto laughed, shoving him lightly. “Hey, I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Kuroo shook his head, though he did reach back to rub the places Bokuto struck. He was sore, but he’d had worse bruises from volleyball practice.

“Okay. Okay, good,” he smiled, pulling Kuroo closer. He kissed him softly, cradling his skull with one hand, fingers playing with the hair at Kuroo’s nape and thumb stroking over the edge of his jaw. “I love you, Tetsu. You know that, right?”

“I know. I love you too,” he assured him with a light kiss of his own. “Wanna shower together?”

“Ha. When do I not?”

“Right, right. What _was_ I thinking?”

Bokuto grinned, seizing the opportunity to tease Kuroo. “Oh! Did I fuck you that good, Tetsu? Did I finally fuck you stupid?”

“You do that all the time, jerk.” Kuroo rolled his eyes but he was smiling as he sat up. He gave an affectionate smack to Bokuto’s chest and grabbed his wrist, tugging lightly. “C’mon. Shower. Maybe I’ll let you fuck me again.”

“Maybe or definitely?”

Kuroo leaned back down, pressing a wet and wicked kiss to Bokuto’s mouth. “What do you think?”

—END—


	2. KurooAka: Dirty Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2\. Dirty Talk  
> KurooAka, implied BoKuroAka  
> Explicit-ish? Mature? (It's really not as dirty as I'd hoped.)
> 
> Set sometime during University.

It was always the quiet ones. Tetsurou sometimes thought that made it more fun. It was easy to get Bokuto riled up, to make him beg and whine for what he wanted.

But Akaashi. Ah, there was the challenge. And it was so fucking satisfying to get him to let go of that cool self-control of his.

Tetsurou took his time with Akaashi—they had the apartment to themselves for the rest of the morning while Bokuto was reluctantly dragging himself to an early class—spending it working him over with hands and lips until the younger man was openly writhing. He made for a beautiful picture, spread naked across their rumpled sheets, hair mussed and skin flushed.

“Tell me what you want, Keiji,” Tetsurou urged, rolling his eyes up to look along the length of Akaashi’s body. He pressed his tongue against the bite he’d left on Akaashi’s inner thigh, smiling when he trembled. “C’mon. It's only fair. You know what _I_ want.”

“You _want_ to be an ass,” Akaashi muttered, shifting his shoulders as if he couldn’t get comfortable in the big bed.

“Is that any kind of thing to say to your loving boyfriend?”

“My loving boyfriend isn’t here, Kuroo-san. I’ve got you instead.”

“Hey!” The rest of Tetsurou’s protest died on his lips. It was hard to be irritated when Akaashi flashed him a knowing smile. He smirked back. Two could play that game.

He rubbed his cheek against Akaashi’s thigh, making sure that his hair brushed against the soft skin.

Akaashi shivered slightly and Tetsurou kissed his way higher, stopping just before he reached the junction where leg met body. This time his hair tickled at even more sensitive places and Akaashi moaned.

“Yes?” Tetsurou purred, trying for innocent and failing.

“A-Are we really doing this?” The hitch in Akaashi's words gave lie to his dry tone and arched brow.

“Yep. Tell me,” Tetsurou pressed. He gave up on subtlety and nuzzled at Akaashi’s groin, grazing lips over his balls and flicking his tongue out at the tip of his mostly hard cock. He held Akaashi’s hips down with strong hands, spreading his thighs wide enough to accommodate his upper body.

“Kuroo-san…”

“How many times do I need to tell you, Keiji?” he murmured, suckling a mark onto his hip. “You can call me Tetsurou in bed. Or anywhere. C’mon. Tell me what you want.”

Akaashi hooked one leg around Tetsurou’s back, trying to arch up under that strong hold. “You're impossible.”

“So you've told me.” He kissed closer, lingering over Akaashi’s lower belly.

“K-Kuro— Nnn... _Tetsurou-san_ …”

He made a satisfied noise. “Just like that. C’mon. Give me the rest of what I want.”

It wasn't that Akaashi was embarrassed or that he didn't want to say the words. Tetsurou knew that Akaashi just liked to make him work for it. He suspected that there was a little bit of self-denial there too, but no matter the reasoning, Tetsurou liked this game. It was one just for them.

“Spread your legs more for me,” he pitched his voice low. If Akaashi wasn't going to talk, then he would.  
Akaashi whined as Tetsurou’s fingers played over his thighs, creeping up to nudge at the sensitive spot behind his balls before sweeping back down his leg.

“You like that? Just ask me and I'll do more,” he promised, letting his words wash hot over Akaashi’s cock. He glanced up, giving a devastating smile when he saw Akaashi watching him with hungry eyes, lips parted and bitten red.

  
Tetsurou kept teasing at Akaashi’s inner thighs, his hips and stomach, always hinting at going further but never actually doing it. It was torment for them both, but Tetsurou had patience to equal Akaashi’s.

“So pretty,” he cooed, licking a line along the furrow of Akaashi’s hip, purposefully rubbing against his erection in the process. “I love how you look underneath me. I want to see you come apart. Just ask me for it. It's easy, Keiji. All you have to say is five little words: ‘Please suck my cock, Tetsu.’”

  
Akaashi groaned, giving a roll of his entire body. Tetsurou upped the ante. His words were definitely having an effect.

“That is what you want, isn't it?” He gave a little lick to Akaashi’s tip, grasping him in one hand and making him shudder. “For me to take your pretty dick into my mouth? Suck you nice and slow, take you deep until I'm fucking choking? You like it when I gag on your cock, don't you, Keiji? I do too. You always feel so good.”

  
Tetsurou punctuated his words with more kitten licks, tasting the pre-come that was starting to leak. He was careful not to do more than that, keeping each touch light and teasing, until Akaashi was panting.

“Or do you want something else? Just tell me and I'll do it. Anything for you, Keiji. You know that.”

“T-Tetsu…”

“ _Yesss_?”

Akaashi pushed himself on his elbows, looking only half as wrecked as Tetsurou would have liked. His slate green eyes were fever bright beneath heavy lids and his voice was only a little tremulous when he spoke. “I-I want to suck your cock too.”

Tetsurou grinned, more satisfied than he knew what to do with. That was certainly a pleasant twist. One that he was happy to agree to. “I did say anything you wanted.”

Akaashi smiled and it was devious enough to rival Tetsurou’s most wicked smirk. “Then beg me for it, Tetsurou-san.”

—END—


	3. BoKuroAka: Spitroast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4\. ~~Bukakke~~ Spitroast  
>  BoKuroAka  
> Mature
> 
> Set sometime during University.
> 
> * Day 3, Public can be found as a standalone DaiSuga, [Beta Corvi](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8473111)

Heaven. He was in absolute heaven.

There were simply no words to describe how he felt when the sex was this good. Things like “blissful” and “euphoric” came to mind, but then Kuroo would give a twisting thrust of his hips or Akaashi pulled on his hair and Koutarou’s thoughts scattered, his higher vocabulary lost to pleasure. 

Why wasn't he in the middle like this more often?

He grabbed for Akaashi’s hips, trusting Kuroo to hold him up on his knees. Trusting Akaashi to help balance him with a strong hand beneath one bicep. The other stayed in his hair, pulling until it was just the right side of painful. Koutarou let them be rough, opened himself to it, slipping into a space where all that mattered was pleasure. His and theirs.

A place where their pleasure  _ was _ his.

—End—


	4. BokuAka: Praise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5\. ~~Humiliation~~ Praise  
>  BokuAka  
> Teen+
> 
> Set during Bokuto's third year.

It was well known that Bokuto was weak for flattery, especially when it came from Keiji. His praise was hard won, in part because it wasn't often that he doled out genuine compliments. Bokuto could tell the difference between his patient “yes, that was a wonderful serve, Bokuto-san,” and an honest “I'm proud to be your setter.” They both buoyed his spirits, but Keiji knew which meant more to him.

It wasn't so well known that Keiji valued Bokuto’s praise in return—on the court and off.

“So pretty,” Bokuto murmured, mostly to himself. As if he wasn't aware of the blush crawling across Keiji’s face as they sat cross-legged on his bed, still fully dressed and facing each other. He had Keiji’s hands lifted to his lips, brushing reverent kisses over them.

“They're just hands, Bokuto-san,” Keiji succeeded in pulling one away. Bokuto didn’t let go of the other, kissing his palm instead. 

“Yeah, but they're your hands. I like them.” He smiled, holding his hand to his cheek, pressing into the palm with a happy sigh. “They're good hands, ‘Kaashi.”

Keiji felt his blush darken, but he played along, rubbing his thumb over Bokuto’s cheekbone. “Tell me why?”

Gold eyes flicked up to meet green and Bokuto’s smile widened. It sent a spiral of squirming warmth into Keiji’s chest while something more visceral stirred in his stomach. 

“I like how they feel when you let me hold them,” Bokuto said, pulling Keiji’s hand from his cheek and lacing their fingers together. He studied the way that they fit, slotted together like they belonged that way. “I like that they're cold, but by the time I let go, they’re all warm and soft. And your fingers are so long. I always thought you’d play the piano or something.”

They shared a look and a snort of laughter. Keiji couldn’t play an instrument or carry a tune to save his life, much to his consternation and Bokuto’s disappointment. 

“They're clever,” Bokuto went on, giving Keiji’s fingers a squeeze. “I love watching you practice tosses. You think I don't pay attention unless you're tossing to me, but I do. I like the way your fingers stretch out, the way you make your tosses look so light and effortless.”

He wiggled closer to Keiji on the bed until their legs were touching. Keiji put his free hand onto Bokuto’s thigh, feeling the warm flex of muscle beneath his grey sweats. He squeezed, smiling when it made Bokuto look down and blush.

“What else?” Keiji asked softly, pleased that he could make Bokuto a little flustered too. Hearing him wax poetic about Keiji’s tosses was nice, but they'd never get anywhere if he continued that way.

“When you touch me,” he whispered, guiding Keiji’s hand over his chest. His thigh twitched beneath the other one. “You always feel so nice. Doesn't matter if it's ‘cause you’re playing with my hair or rubbing my back or if, y’know, we're having sex. You touch me like… like I'm important.”

“You are,” Keiji said. He pulled his hand out of Bokuto’s gentle grip and crawled into his lap, sitting with his legs circled around his waist and one arm around his broad shoulders. He palmed Bokuto’s face, smiling softly. “You’re so important to me, Koutarou.”

“You too, Keiji.” 

They kissed each other like it was the first time. Slow, gentle. A little bit shy and breathless. Keiji slipped his hand into Bokuto’s hair, running his fingers through it until the product weakened and it was falling softly around his face. It made him look younger than he was, especially when he looked at Keiji with wide gold eyes and an uncertain smile.

“I love you.” Then, as if to convince himself that he had said it out loud, he did it again in a voice that sounded stronger and more sure of itself. “Keiji, I love you.”

There was no such hesitation when Keiji responded, breaking into the bright smile that only Bokuto was ever allowed to see—even brighter than the one he had graced his team with when they went to Nationals his first year. He kissed Bokuto deeply, clinging to his shoulders and laughing softly into his mouth. Pouring his happiness into him. His heart felt like it would burst and shatter unless he held tight to Bokuto’s strength. 

“Koutarou,” he whispered, kissing the corners of his mouth, “I love you too.”

Bokuto looked at him in awe. Keiji supposed that he was allowed that much. Keiji’s reaction to his initial confession—after that same qualifying match, as it happened—had been much more subdued. Cautious. Hopeful, but… cautious. They had both been afraid of being hurt, but Bokuto had always been braver, even when he was scared. Keiji admired that about him. Loved him for it.

Loved him for so many things.

Loved the way that Bokuto kissed him back, with quick and gentle pecks followed by a nip and a lick to his lower lip that led into something much deeper, much warmer and toe-curling. Loved the way that he tipped him back onto the bed, covering him with his strong body like a living blanket. Loved the way he whispered his name and asked so thoughtfully, “Is this okay?”

“It’s perfect,” Keiji nodded, brushing his hair away from his guileless eyes. “ _ You’re _ perfect.”

He blushed, his fair skin turning a lovely shade of pink. “I’m not. Not even close. You… you’re the perfect one, Keiji. You always know what to say, what to do to make me feel good. You make me happy. You make me… you make me better.”

Keiji’s chest tightened under those words. Bokuto had said variations on them from the beginning. Even before they were dating. But it was different now. Did saying “I love you” somehow give them more power? 

“You make me better too,” he breathed, running his thumbs over Bokuto’s cheekbones, his brows, his lips. He liked the way he closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. “You’re… you’re my heart. My strength.”

“Keiji…” he kissed his fingers, sighing out a content, deep breath. 

“Make love to me,” Keiji leaned up to kiss him. “My parents won’t be home for hours still. We can take our time.”

“And not jump every time the house creaks?”

“Exactly.”

Bokuto nodded. “Will you call my name?”

“Anything you want,” Keiji agreed, smiling. “You can call mine too. And anything else. Just try not to disturb the neighbors, hm?”

“Kei~ji! I’m not  _ that  _ loud!” he protested, and Keiji knew that he was raising his voice on purpose, adding that whining drawl just to be irritating. “Just for that, I’m gonna make you scream.”

“I’ve never screamed your name outside of the volleyball court, Bokuto-san,” he said, slipping neatly into his own polite deadpan. It was a measured tone to hide behind, a mask that he no longer wore with the other boy. Bokuto knew it too. “I have no intention of doing it in bed, no matter how good you are.”

“Akaashi!” he laughed. Then, with a kiss and a growl that was only half-playful: “Hey. Tell me how good I am.”

“Only if you do the same.”

—END—


	5. BoKuroo: Edgeplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 6\. Edgeplay*  
> BoKuroo  
> Explicit
> 
> Set during university. 
> 
> * I'm taking "edgeplay" to mean "edging/orgasm denial," rather than risk-associated kinks (which most of these prompts are already).

“Wh-What’s gotten you into this mood?” Bokuto was proud of the fact that his voice shook only a little. It wasn’t easy to keep one's composure when one was tied securely to the headboard with a necktie and a dick hard enough to pound nails. 

Having four of Kuroo’s long fingers buried inside of his ass didn’t make things easier. 

“Can't a guy want to spoil his boyfriend without a reason?”

Bokuto laughed, the sound rough and raspy. “I think you mean torture. C-C’mon, man. Lemme come already.”

Kuroo leaned forward, gently kissing him. He smiled and it was soft, sweet. Evil. “No.”

“Fuuuck…” he let his head fall back, caught between chuckling and crying. “Tetsu, I hate you.”

“No, you don't,” he said. “Not even close.”

“I might change my mind.”

Kuroo gave a snort of laughter through his nose that suggested he didn’t believe that in the slightest. Bokuto wasn’t entirely sure that he believed it himself, after all. Not when the last time he’d let Kuroo have his way like this, he’d come so hard that he blacked out.

Good times.

“Tetsu…” he whined, choking on a gasp when fingers curled up against his prostate yet again. The overworked nerves felt raw, blown to the point where Bokuto didn't know if he welcomed the pain or dreaded the pleasure.

“I know,” Kuroo softened his tone to something more serious. He splayed his free hand across Bokuto’s stomach, pressing gently and making him even more aware of the fingers inside of him. “I’ve got you, Kou. Relax for me… that’s it.”

Bokuto hid his face in his shoulder, hands twisting at the tie and toes digging into the bedding as he squirmed. A fine sheen of sweat had broken out on his body and he was flushed all the way down to his chest. His skin felt too tight and he ached—oh, God, how he  _ ached _ . Kuroo was entirely too good at teasing him, at bringing him to the edge and then backing off, making him pant and keen and cry for more.

“You’re so perfect,” Kuroo soothed, kissing him tenderly on the mouth. He offered a smile, cupping Bokuto’s face in one hand and leaning their foreheads together while his fingers pressed deep. “You can do this for me. Last time, I swear, baby. It’ll feel so good.”

He nodded, unable to find his voice. Kuroo’s fingers were sliding slow and perfect inside of him, stroking repeatedly over his prostate, stretching him wider than he could ever remember being. A thumb rubbed over his perineum, nudging tightly up against the back of his balls, and Bokuto moaned. For less, for more, he wasn’t really sure. He just wanted it to end, wanted Kuroo to take him to that edge and, this time, shove him off.

When Kuroo finally took his cock into his hand, it was almost painful, hot fingers settling over sensitive skin like a brand. Bokuto choked off a scream—and were those tears in his eyes?—bucking his hips and begging for release while Kuroo tried to calm him with low-pitched words and stroked him slowly.

“I’ve got you. Fuck, you’re so pretty, babe. You’re close, right? It’ll be okay,” he whispered, running his thumb over Bokuto’s tip and pressing into the sensitive skin just below the crown. “That’s it. That’s it, Kou. Come for me, baby.”

“T-Tetsu…”

“I know. C’mon.”

He screamed. Long and loud, until his throat was raw, Bokuto screamed and cursed Kuroo’s name. He thought he might have heard fabric tearing, but his hands stayed caught in their bindings, knuckles gone white. Every muscle in his body seemed to go taut at once, locking up as he arched beneath Kuroo’s still-moving hands, head thrown back and eyes clenched shut. His thighs shook with the tension. They were going to ache later, but right now, his release felt  _ sublime _ .

“Kou…” Kuroo cooed, hands coaxing ropes of come from him until his chest and belly were practically coated with it. “One of these days we're gonna film this, baby. You should see how fucking gorgeous you are.”

He moaned, more at the sound of Kuroo’s voice than his words. He wasn't quite able to comprehend more than his own name, really. And that Kuroo thought he was beautiful. He smiled, red-faced and panting for breath as his body finally relaxed into the bed.

“Tetsu…”

“Shh, I got you, baby,” he murmured, pulling the slip knot and gathering Bokuto’s upper body into his embrace. His fingers slipped from his entrance, drawing another strangled cry, but then he was kissing his tears away and muttering more assurances against his lips. “Koutarou… my Kou. God, I love you, babe.”

Bokuto dug his hands into Kuroo’s shirt, into his hair, holding him like a lifeline as he kissed him. It was desperate and trembling, but he felt raw. Vulnerable in a way that left him a little scared. Kuroo understood—must have remembered from the last time—because he held him tight, laughing softly into each wet kiss.

“I love you, Kou. I won't let go. Promise. I promise, but you need to let me breathe, babe.”

“... sorry…” He tried to speak up, but the sound of his heartbeat was heavy in his ears. He didn't let go of Kuroo.

Kuroo didn't make him.

—END—


	6. KurooAka: Leather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 8\. Latex/Leather  
> KuroAka, mentioned BoKuroAka  
> Mature
> 
> University AU again. I tried to do something less obvious with this kink.  
> 
> * Day 7, Creampie can be found as a BoKuroAka standalone, [Dirty Pretty Things.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8473630)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is Kuroo’s leather jacket.](http://www.superdry.com/us/mens/leather-jackets/details/62661/endurance-speed-leather-jacket-black)

Akaashi and Bokuto’s favorite item of Kuroo’s clothing was, by far, his leather jacket. It was a collarless biker jacket, in dark brown leather so dark it was nearly black with horizontal detailing on the shoulders and upper arms. Bands of lighter brown circled his biceps. There were deep pockets to shove his hands into and zippered pockets across the chest. It fit him well and after so many years, the leather was soft and supple. 

When Akaashi slipped the jacket on as he and Kuroo walked home one late evening, he was pleased to discover that it was also warm and smelled of not only the comforting scent of leather, but also of Kuroo. It was a good smell. One of home and good things.

“You won’t be cold?” he asked. Kuroo was in a black Henley beneath a red flannel, but the fall nights were getting cooler. Akaashi had been caught unusually unprepared for the bite of crisp night air that met them outside of the library.

“I’m fine,” Kuroo assured him. The jacket looked good on Akaashi, a bit big across the shoulders and the sleeves a little too long. He tugged at the sleeve and grinned when Akaashi looked at him. “I guess this is what they mean by a boyfriend jacket, right?”

Akaashi snorted quietly. “I suppose so.”

“I like it. It looks good.”

Akaashi rolled his eyes a little, but he smiled and when Kuroo took his hand, he didn’t argue. 

He didn’t argue when they got home and Kuroo pressed him gently against the back of the door, kissing him with both hands cupping his face. He liked it, being surrounded by Kuroo—by his body, by his warm jacket. The smell of him, the feel. It felt like home.

He raised his hands up to Kuroo’s chest, not to push him away, but to feel the beat of his heart behind his palms. Kuroo placed his own over them, holding Akaashi to his heart as they kept kissing. It was a lot of slow, sweet dips of their tongues, twining them together before drawing back to lick and nip at each other’s lips. They took their time, letting their school bags fall to the floor beside their feet long before they ever broke apart for breath.

Bokuto wasn’t home yet from work, leaving the apartment dark and quiet. Akaashi’s hand sought out the light switch while Kuroo locked the door, crowding closer and looking at him with a promise in his eyes. A hungry one.

“Do you want to?”

Akaashi drew the jacket tighter around him, shivering as if he were cold, but that wasn’t it. The jacket—Kuroo’s nearness—was too warm for that. Was, in fact, the cause. “Yes.”

Kuroo’s smile widened and he kissed Akaashi again. Kept kissing him until they were both grabbing at each other’s clothes. But not the jacket. The jacket stayed firmly on Akaashi, wrapping him in comfort as well as Kuroo’s arms could do.

Kuroo’s arms ended up wrapped around his thighs. He knelt in front of Akaashi, sinking to his knees in one smooth movement, and kissed his hip before working his belt free and his fly down. Akaashi’s jeans weren’t as tight as Kuroo’s own, making them easy to peel down his legs.

He leaned heavily against the door, one hand braced against it, the other sinking into Kuroo’s hair. The feel of the soft black strands grounded him and his touch encouraged Kuroo—not that Kuroo ever needed much encouragement. When Akaashi dared to look down, all he saw was an expression of intent and desire on Kuroo’s handsome face.

That look translated into action and had Akaashi moaning and writhing all too quickly. Kuroo’s hands were far too skilled. So were his lips and tongue, that smart mouth made for sin and sarcasm. There was no sarcasm or teasing to be found in him now, with Kuroo too focused on Akaashi’s pleasure, driving him higher and higher until he started begging.

The build wasn’t as slow as Akaashi usually liked—it was unfair, how well both of his lovers knew him and his buttons—but that didn’t mean it was bad. It was, in fact, stunningly perfect. The heat, the pressure, the slickness of Kuroo’s mouth and the pleased sounds he made. And above all, that wonderful jacket, keeping him surrounded as sure as an embrace, smelling of spices and cologne. He felt safe. Loved. 

Moaning Kuroo’s name, Akaashi let himself be drawn over the edge. It was easy to fall when he knew that he’d be caught. Caught, quite literally, as his knees gave out and Kuroo grabbed him around the waist. 

“Easy,” he laughed, hugging Akaashi close. He looked entirely too smug, but it was one of the things Akaashi had come to love about him. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Akaashi nodded, though his ears were still ringing. He leaned into Kuroo’s arms, sighing softly. He wanted to return the favor, but for a moment, he just wanted to stay there, wrapped up in safety and love.

—END—


	7. BokuAka: Asphyxiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9\. Asphyxiation  
> BokuAka  
> Mature
> 
> University fic. I chickened out on this one, so it’s just a drabble. Sorry, guys.

“Bokuto-san… choke me.” 

Koutarou’s eyes went wide for a moment, his hips stuttering as Akaashi’s request broke through the lust-induced haze of his brain. Then he smiled and nodded. 

It was relatively rare for Akaashi to actually ask for anything in bed and this was one of the few things he’d ever wanted for himself. Koutarou couldn’t deny him, not when he considered the trust Akaashi placed in him just by asking in the first place, never mind the act itself. 

Besides. He’d found that he kind of liked it himself.

“Just like last time?” he asked, feeling sweat break out anew across his forehead and shoulders.

“Yes. Yes,  _ please _ .” Akaashi already looked wrecked, his normally passive face blushed and screwed up with pleasure. His hair was a mess, dark curls sticking to his forehead and neck.

Koutarou thought he looked beautiful.

He’d look even more beautiful with one of Koutarou’s hands wrapped around his pretty throat.

—END—


	8. BoKuroAka: Sadism/Masochism & Master/slave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 11\. Sadism/Masochism & 12\. Master/slave  
> BoKuroAka (featuring Dom!Akaashi)  
> Mature
> 
> Set in a slightly… darker, more sensual sort of modern AU. Ages around 24/25-ish. Not much on the S/M side, but it’s the thought that counts, right?
> 
> * Day 10, Size Difference can be found as an AsaNoya standalone, [Looking Homeward.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8473336)

Their eyes follow him across the room, attentive and eager. Just the way it should be. The way he likes. The way he trained them.

They make for a beautiful pair, kneeling side by side in the center of the plushly carpeted room. Naked, undecorated but for the thin chains around their throats. Gold with an amber stone for Bokuto. Silver with a garnet for Kuroo. Both with tiny black metal tags bearing the characters for Akaashi’s name.

He has both of their names—their given names—tattooed upon the inside of his wrists in their own handwriting. When he folds his hands against his chest, it’s like holding them to his heart, even when they aren’t near.

Akaashi circles them, half-smiling to himself when they don’t move, even though their instinct is to watch him wherever he goes. It had always been that way. He didn’t need to teach them that. He’d needed to teach them to remain still, though. That hadn’t been easy for them, especially his sweet Koutarou.

He’s so proud of them both.

They kneel quietly, his lovely pair, close enough for their shoulders to brush. Their hands. When Akaashi allows it—a simply murmured “go ahead” is enough—they twine their fingers together. It’s a comfort to them both, he knows. Something to steady their nerves, ground their thoughts. And he likes how it looks, to see them both waiting patiently for him, holding hands and breathing shallowly with anticipation.

Standing in front of them, Akaashi bends down at the waist to kiss them. Kuroo first, cradling his face in both hands and sucking softly at his lower lip before he gives the same sweet treatment to Bokuto. He loves them both dearly. Is thankful that he’d never needed to choose between them, because it would have been impossible.

Kuroo, his cat-in-the-cream demon with the clever tongue and smug smiles. Bokuto, his guardian fallen angel with infectious laughter and wide-eyed honesty. Light and dark, both too ridiculous for words when left on their own, but also the most wonderful men Akaashi has ever known. He couldn’t have helped but fall in love with them both, grateful to whatever gods exist that their friendship meant they were a package deal. Grateful that they’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted them.

He sits on the sofa, crossing his long legs—dressed in close-fitting denim and knee-high leather—and stretching his arms out along the back, tipping his head in thoughtful consideration. Beckons them closer with a tilt of his chin.

They crawl across the floor to him, both moving like great cats. Bokuto, a lion. Kuroo, a panther. He reaches out to both of them and they take his hands, kissing their names upon his wrists.

Choosing between them now, Akaashi draws Bokuto up onto the sofa beside him. Kisses him on the cheek and directs him to wrap strong arms around his waist. He gets comfortable, settling against Bokuto’s chest, sighing in contentment when the other man nuzzles his dark hair.

Kuroo remains kneeling, looking at Akaashi with a promise in his eyes. Only the way he bites at his lower lips betrays his anticipation, the coming question. “Akaashi-san. May I?”

“Please,” he says, offering a smile. He traces his thumb over Kuroo’s cheekbone, his lips, tugging the bottom one away from his teeth. Kuroo smiles back—his real smile, the beautiful one that makes Akaashi’s heart stutter—from underneath the fringe of his bangs. 

He nudges Akaashi’s legs apart and sits between his knees, running hands over his thighs and boots. The sensation makes Akaashi all but purr. He moans when Kuroo lays a bite to the inside of one knee. He’ll let him leave marks soon enough, matching all of the others, but for now, it’s enough to tease them both. 

He makes Kuroo go slowly, fisting his hair when he gets a little too eager with the biting, pushing him back when his hands get too grabby. It’s a special kind of torture for Akaashi too, trapped hard within his tight jeans, but he likes the waiting. Likes making Kuroo wait. He couldn’t have done it to Bokuto—he would have failed far too quickly, and Akaashi doesn’t like setting him up for that—but Kuroo can almost match his patience. Almost.

When Kuroo finally breaks, mouthing at the outline of Akaashi’s erection before his master was ready to allow it, there’s a kind of bittersweet satisfaction to it. 

“You were doing so well,” he says, sitting up and leaning towards Kuroo. Bokuto follows, his warmth steadying. “Shall I punish you now or after?”

“Now,” Kuroo answers promptly, “Akaashi-san.”

Akaashi nods. Slaps him across the face twice, once with his palm, then again with the back. Kuroo takes it with little more than a whine and when he looks back, his eyes are slightly unfocused before he blinks it away. Akaashi couldn’t do that to Bokuto either, but Kuroo likes it. 

It’s not much of a punishment, considering that, but Akaashi doesn’t consider the transgression all that severe either. The real punishment is making Kuroo wait, hands behind his back, while he watches Bokuto get what was meant to be his reward. 

Akaashi doesn’t make Bokuto go slow and when he comes, he lets Bokuto swallow. Only then does he let Kuroo shuffle forward on his knees and start all over again.

—END—


	9. BokuAka: Sensory Deprivation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 14\. Sensory Deprivation  
> BokuAka  
> Explicit 
> 
> Set sometime during University, maybe just before Akaashi’s first year begins.
> 
> * Day 13 ~~Medical Play~~ Rimming, can be found as an IwaOi standalone, [Resolved.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8802076)

It had started off simply, with Akaashi asking “do you trust me?” To which Koutarou had automatically replied that he did, of course he did. There had never been a time when he  _ didn't _ trust Akaashi. It was well-placed faith because Akaashi had actually smiled and then reined in Koutarou’s enthusiasm with the rest of the conversation and some common sense to go with it.

He had never been the type to just let Koutarou agree blindly to anything and being, well, blindfolded was no exception. In the end, with a lot of eye-rolling at Akaashi’s over concerned lecturing, Koutarou had still agreed.

“It's a blindfold, ‘Kaashi,” he said, taking his hands and kissing them. “Not like, whips and chains and shit. I trust you and it sounds fun. What more do I need to know?”

“It's not the blindfold. You agree too easily without thinking things through,” Akaashi scolded. “I worry that one day I'll hurt you because you didn't want to disappoint me or because you trust my judgment too much and agree to something you don't want.”

“You're afraid I can't say no?”

“I'm afraid you won't.”

Koutarou leveled an even look at him. “I have limits, Keiji. You've just never asked me to cross them.”

“What sort of limits?” he asked, twisting his fingers around Koutarou’s. 

He shrugged. “Blood. Humiliation. Those kinds of things.”

“Whips and chains?” Akaashi lifted a brow.

“I dunno. I might try those if it was with you.”

There was a faint blush to Akaashi’s cheeks as he nodded and leaned forward to kiss Koutarou. “Let's start small with the blindfold. See how you like that.”

When they tried it, Koutarou found that he liked it. A  _ lot _ .

He was sitting propped up against the pile of pillows on their bed, completely naked with a strip of black cloth tied over his eyes. His hair was down, freshly washed and fluffy, and he had his arms folded behind his head at Akaashi’s request. The smile on his face hadn't left since before they began.

Koutarou’s only real complaint was that he didn't get to see Akaashi's pretty face while he went down on him.

He could picture it in his head, the way Akaashi’s eyes would be watching him. Unobserved himself, he probably had them open wider than usual, not bothering with discretion. He always tried to be so coy, and while Koutarou thought that was sexy—the way Akaashi would look from under heavy lids and through long lashes—a bold stare never failed to make his gut clench.

That wasn't even taking into consideration the way that Akaashi’s mouth looked with a cock in it. Or the pretty blush that covered his cheeks and reached all the way to his chest when he was turned on enough. 

Koutarou moaned to think about it, flexing his shoulders and arching his back. It really wasn't fair that Akaashi got to see him and he couldn’t do the same. Or touch him.

He wanted to run his hands through Akaashi’s curls, stroke his thumbs over hollowed cheeks, rub gentle fingers over lips wet with saliva and precome. Not being allowed made him want to do it even more, but Akaashi had been devious when he asked Koutarou to keep his hands behind his head. If Koutarou touched him, he’d stop. Even worse, he'd be disappointed. 

Both of those things were unacceptable to Koutarou, but that didn't make it any easier to bear. 

The blindfold made everything simultaneously better and worse. Worse for missing out on watching, worse for his self-control, but better for so much more. Koutarou wasn't sure he had ever been so aware of the way Akaashi touched him, his breath warm and his hands clever.

Those hands were long-fingered and a little rough with calluses from long hours spent setting a volleyball. They stroked over the insides of Koutarou’s thighs with confidence,  held his hips down when he got too eager, and cradled his balls in a gentle grip. He didn't tease or tickle, but Akaashi didn't try to get him off quickly either. 

He did the same with his mouth and Koutarou could only concentrate on each wonderful lick of his tongue, the way he sucked at the head. He made soft sounds that had Koutarou echoing him with a pleased groan. He'd always liked to hear Akaashi—he was surprisingly vocal in bed, making lots of delicious sounds, if a bit quiet in their actual volume. Without the distraction of his sight and, more importantly, his hands, Koutarou could pay closer attention. 

The delicate sighs, the moans, but there was so much more. Subtler things, like the slick sound of flesh against flesh. Wet breaths. The faint gulp of Akaashi’s gag reflex trying to rise as he swallowed Koutarou’s length down his throat. 

It sent his imagination into overdrive, offering a vivid picture of Akaashi not only wide-eyed and intent, but also a mess. His normally composed Keiji, with saliva bubbling at the corners of his mouth, eyes running—and maybe his nose too, which wasn’t sexy at all, but always happened when Akaashi gave him really good head, so maybe it was a little sexy. The only thing that would make the picture more complete would be his hair in disarray, but Koutarou kept his hands firmly in place.

He couldn’t keep his hips quite as still. Akaashi stopped holding him down at some point, though Koutarou wouldn’t have been able to say when, only that he was grateful to have a lover who liked it a little rough. He had to put his hands down, dig his fingers into the bedding before he forgot himself and reached for Akaashi’s hair. 

He held the fantasy image of Akaashi in his mind as so many sensations started to spiral into one single, overwhelming  _ need _ . 

“A-Akaashi, I’m gonna…” he tried to say, hips bucking erratically, “Keiji…”

The spiral tightened, wound down, down, down until there was no where else for the heat to go and Koutarou broke. He had expected Akaashi to pull away, but instead, Koutarou found himself buried down his throat as he came. He wished that he could see it because he could barely concentrate on the way it felt, with Akaashi’s hands on his thighs and his lips sealed around the base of his cock, nose pressed against his belly. He moaned Akaashi’s name, broken and more mangled than usual, then fell back against the bed, panting. His fingers were still dug into the sheets, and whether he was afraid to let go or simply couldn’t do it yet, Koutarou couldn’t be sure until his scattered thoughts returned to him.

“K-Keiji…”

Akaashi was already releasing him, letting him fall from his lips and kissing his stomach. When he spoke, his voice was raspy and raw. “I’m here, Bokuto-san.”

“Can I… can I touch you now?” he asked, licking at his lips. They suddenly felt very dry.

“Please do,” Akaashi took one of his hands and guided it to his face. Koutarou cupped his cheek, smiling as he ran his thumb over swollen, wet lips.

“You swallowed,” he said. “You almost never swallow.”

“I wanted to this time,” he replied, crawling up to lay tucked beside Koutarou. Very gently, he removed the blindfold and smiled when Koutarou blinked wide eyes open at him. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

Stroking the soft skin at his temple, Akaashi gently kissed him. He kept it chaste, but Koutarou didn’t want chaste. Sweet and gentle, yes, but not chaste. He swept his tongue over the inside of his mouth, tasting himself and beneath that, Akaashi. He pulled back with a smile and a satisfied sigh of pleasure-pride.

Akaashi looked wrecked, just like he’d imagined. Like he’d hoped. He was beautiful.

“Love you, Keiji,” he murmured, using the blindfold to wipe his face clean of tears and other things. It would do for the moment, until they could be bothered to clean up properly.

“I love you too,” he said, leaning into the touch.

“Your turn?” Koutarou kissed him again, licking at his lower lip.

“No,” Akaashi shook his head. “I came when you did. Just hold me, please. For a minute, at least.”

“Mm…” he enveloped Akaashi in both arms, snuggling close. “I think I can give you more than that.”

“How much more?” Akaashi asked with a gentle smile.

“Forever?”

“Hm, yes,” he agreed, tucking his head beneath Koutarou’s chin. “I like that. Forever.”

“Then that's how long it'll be,” Koutarou promised, closing his eyes and sighing out a deep, contented breath. “Forever.”

—END—


	10. KurooAka: Sounding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 15\. Sounding   
> KurooAka  
> Explicit 
> 
> Part of the Dom!Akaashi AU. Ages around 24/25. Also includes **D/s elements, bondage, mild orgasm denial.**

Kuroo was panting, his bound body slick with sweat and his face twisted with agonized pleasure. His dark hair stuck to his cheeks and neck and he tried to toss it out of his eyes.

“Easy,” Akaashi soothed, using the back of his wrist to push Kuroo’s hair away from his face. He wore black nitrile gloves and both hands were slick with lube. One was holding a slim metal rod, also slick with lube. “You’re doing so well. Take it for me one more time.”

“Please,” he keened and usually Akaashi would have told him not to beg, but it was inevitable tonight. Kuroo was nearly at his limit, but he was going to push just a little more.

Kuroo could take it.

“I know,” Akaashi said, wrapping his hand around Kuroo’s dick again. He pressed the tip of the sound into his slit and if Kuroo hadn’t been tied down so well, he would have twisted his hips away. 

Akaashi looked carefully at his face. “Tetsurou, what's your color, sweetheart?”

He swallowed hard, eyes squeezing shut as he gathered his thoughts. “Green, but I… I'm not sure for how much longer.”

“All right. I want you to tell me before it gets to yellow. I know you can do this for me, but don't force yourself either.”

Kuroo nodded, keeping his gaze on Akaashi’s green eyes. His own pupils were blown wide, swallowing up the dark amber irises. The blush on his cheeks had gone steadily from pink to deep red and reached all the way down to his chest. Akaashi thought he looked exquisite. 

“Breathe,” he said, and on Kuroo’s slow exhale, he pressed the sound deeper. The noise that the older man made made his spine thrum and his stomach clench.

What was more sublime than pain? Than pleasure? Was there even a word for the aching sob that spilled from Kuroo’s lips?

“Beautiful,” Akaashi murmured. “Does it hurt?”

Kuroo shook his head, even though he bit at his lower lip. “No. No, it's just…”

“Intense?” he asked, letting it slip in a little farther. 

Kuroo moaned from deep in his throat and nodded. With his free hand, Akaashi rubbed his trembling stomach, leaving his skin glistening with lube.

“I know,” he said softly. He did. He'd never tried anything on Kuroo that he hadn't first tried on himself. So he knew the ache, the pressure of being so unnaturally filled, the intensity from the glide of stainless steel, the desperate want that followed. Kuroo had already been denied too many times and he was lost to sensation. Lost to Akaashi.

Kuroo suffered so beautifully. 

Gripping Kuroo at the base of his cock, Akaashi used deft fingers to turn the sound, drawing another guttural cry from him. His hands twisted at the ropes binding him and his thighs flexed beneath leather straps. Akaashi held still and made soothing noises until he relaxed again, blowing out a breath through his nose.

“Good,” Akaashi smiled. It was soft and gentle, something that made Kuroo smile in return, though his eyes were tight. “What's your color?”

“Green. Barely,” he added in a whisper.

“Okay. Hold on just a little bit longer for me. Are you close to coming? You feel close.”

Kuroo nodded, choking as Akaashi carefully slid the rod back and forth, fucking him from the inside with the smallest of movements.

Akaashi eased the sound out. Holding it between two fingers, he pressed his thumb beneath the crown of Kuroo’s cock, rubbed it over the head and the weeping, oversensitive opening. 

“Oh, God! Please!” Tears were streaming down Kuroo’s face. “I can’t…”

“I know. I'm not going to tease.” Akaashi stroked him with his other hand, smooth and solid. “Come for me now, Tetsu.”

There was almost no time between Akaashi’s words and Kuroo’s orgasm. He came hard, hips bucking as much as the bindings would allow, thick white come splattering across his chest and stomach. Akaashi worked him through it, watching his face run the gamut of pain, pleasure and utter relief before he sagged back against the bed, breathing hard and shivering.

“You were perfect,” Akaashi told him, exhaling his own deep breath. He leaned over Kuroo on all fours and pressed a tender kiss to his slack mouth. “Absolutely wonderful. Be patient while I untie you?”

Kuroo could only nod.

—END—


	11. BoKuroo: Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 18\. Daddy  
> BoKuroo  
> Teen+ 
> 
> AKA “The Adventures of Mama-Cat and Owl Daddy.” Post university. 
> 
> Not actually daddy kink, I'm just tossing the word around a lot. There’s a cute cat though.
> 
> *Days 16, Waxplay and 17, ~~Blood/Gore~~ Biting/Marking can be found as a BoKuroo standalone, [Happy Birthday, Baby.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8585251)

Tetsurou was the one who brought the kitten home—a half-starved little calico with bright green eyes—so Bokuto said that made him “mama.” Tetsurou hadn't found it amusing and he'd countered with “I guess that means you're ‘daddy.’”

“I'll be your daddy any day, Tetsu,” Bokuto shot back, giving him a half-lidded look. The look he got when he was being clever or devious. Tetsurou had just smirked and kissed him.

“You wish.”

That would have been the end of it except the nicknames for each other had stuck. In regards to the kitten at least, who was now a sleek, spoiled cat named Mocha. She liked to lay across Tetsu’s books when he tried to read and twine herself around Bokuto’s neck whenever he sat on the sofa. She was also particularly chatty and would scold both of them whenever they were late with dinner.

“You're not starving,” Tetsurou scolded right back as he opened a new can of food for the cat twining herself around his ankles. “You have plenty of dry food and I know for a fact Daddy fed you this morning.”

Mocha just yowled louder and gave him a pathetic look. Tetsurou sighed and quickly portioned out the meat and gravy onto a ceramic dish. He was just setting it on the floor next to her other dishes when Bokuto came home, looking exhausted. 

“Your cat says you're starving her,” Tetsu greeted him with a kiss in the entranceway. It was strangely domestic, not at all what he'd imagined for himself when he was seventeen. 

“Since when is she  _ my _ cat?  _ You're _ her mother,” Bokuto retorted, but his usual laughter wasn't there. He looped his arms around Tetsurou’s waist, leaning against him with a heavy sigh.

“Long day, dear?” It was said lightly, but Tetsu slipped his hands up to run his fingers through Bokuto’s hair. He smoothed the soft strands at the back of his neck, frowning when there was no answer. “Hey. Tell me?”

“Just… a long damn day,” he said.

Tetsurou kissed him softly, pressing their foreheads together. “Go get a shower. I'll have dinner ready when you’re done and you can tell me everything.”

Bokuto nodded, offering a faint, grateful smile. “Thanks, Mama-cat.”

“Ugh, just go,” he rolled his eyes, even though he was pleased Bokuto was perking up, “... Owl Daddy.”

That made Bokuto laugh, which was really all Tetsurou could hope for. He kissed him one more time before prodding him in the direction of their bedroom and turning himself back into the kitchen. They had been saving some steaks for a special occasion, but Kuroo thought that salvaging a bad day with a good dinner was special enough.

He wasn't the home chef that Bokuto was—and really, who ever would have thought that Kou could cook?—but steaks grilled and served sliced over rice with a pre-made sauce wasn't a stretch of Tetsurou’s kitchen skills. It wasn't the simple omurice he'd planned on either, but Bokuto’s open appreciation made it worth the trouble.

“You didn't have to,” he tried to protest,  running a self-conscious hand through his damp hair.

“I know. But you would.”

“Yeah, I would,” he admitted with a smile. “Thanks, Tetsu. It looks really good.”

“Tastes good too. Go on. Eat.” He set their meals onto the table and turned to the fridge for something to drink. He skipped over the beer and found the half-bottle of red wine left over from the last time they'd had friends over. 

“Thought you wanted to hear about my shit day,” Bokuto said as Tetsu poured their glasses.

“I do. If you want.” 

“Not really. It was just…” he trailed off, making a gesture with his chopsticks. 

“Long?” Tetsurou sat down across from him.

“Yeah.”

He understood. It had been one of those days when nothing seemed to go right, when everything and everyone was exhausting, and the demands just kept piling up. Days like that were hard enough for Tetsurou. They wore Koutarou down even worse, so he didn't press for more. 

Instead, he suggested a movie after dinner, something with a lot of action that they'd seen half a dozen times and didn't need to pay attention to. They ended up curled together on the sofa, Bokuto draped over Tetsurou’s chest, their limbs tangled and a purring cat in the middle of it all. Tetsurou combed his fingers through Bokuto’s hair, half-expecting him to start purring too.

“Better?” he asked after awhile. 

“It's always better after I can come home to you, Tetsu.”

“Flatterer.”

Bokuto chuckled. It was a good sound and Tetsurou kissed his forehead.

“I love you, Kou.”

That never failed to make Bokuto smile and Tetsu wasn’t disappointed. Bokuto’s face lit up as he echoed the declaration. He kissed Tetsurou warmly, cradling the side of his face in one hand.

One kiss turned into two, then three and four, until the movie was long forgotten and Mocha had fled to find a less wiggly place to sleep. Tetsurou grinned, brushing his lips against Bokuto’s ear.

“You disturbed your cat, Daddy.”

“Mocha-cat or you, Mama-cat?” 

“Mm. Well, I meant Mocha, but yeah, me too. You gonna do anything about it?”

“Want me to?” he asked, laying more fully on top of Tetsurou’s lanky body. Pushing their hips together, he let Tetsu feel just how badly he wanted that answer to be yes. “You've been taking care of me all night. You want Daddy to return the favor?”

Tetsu wrinkled his nose. “It's still weird when you do that, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Call yourself Daddy.” He kissed Bokuto, twining a leg around his thigh and draping both arms over his shoulders. “That's  _ my _ job.”

—END—


	12. KurooAka: Shower/Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 19\. ~~Prostitution~~ Shower/bath  
>  KuroAkaa  
> Mature 
> 
> Post university fic. Ages are around 27/28. Also includes pierced, tattooed and long-haired Akaashi. And a lot of angst.

Akaashi leans forward with his hands against the shower wall while Kuroo licks away the rivulets of water running down his neck. The length of his body presses against him, warm and slick under the spray, and Akaashi moans softly. It's a pretty sound, one that Kuroo wants to hear more of before he lets him go.

Before he has to let Akaashi walk out of his life again.

He scrubs his hands into Akaashi’s curls—he'd let his hair grow out in the years since high school and it falls in wet ringlets around his face now. Kuroo had hardly recognized him the night before, but for those sleepy green eyes and the way he'd said “Kuroo-san,” the way most people said “Hey, asshole.”

Akaashi looks over his tattooed shoulder, toes flexing on the slick tile as he pushes his ass back into Kuroo. It's a silent demand, not unlike the many he'd made the night before, and Kuroo slides his arms around his waist. Holds him tight and grinds his thickening cock against that pert backside.

How often had he imagined this? Waking up with Akaashi after a long night of sex. Showering together, still hungry for each other, before breakfast and goodbye kisses.

Except he wanted that every day. And Akaashi had made it very clear that this was a one-off. It was painful. Stupid.

Kuroo has never been very smart when it comes to Akaashi.

So he tries to make the moment last. Burns the sight of Akaashi’s lithe, wet body into his mind. The feel of his soft skin beneath his hands and lips. The sound of his near-silent moans. The smell of him wearing Kuroo’s own shampoo and soap.

Kuroo slides his mouth along the curve of Akaashi’s spine, tasting soap and water and salt. His hands find Akaashi’s, still pressed to the wall, and laces their fingers together for as long as he can. Until he sinks to his knees behind Akaashi and takes his hips into both hands. He kisses the divot of his spine where it curves above his ass. Kisses the twin dimples at either side.

“K-Kuroo-san…” It's the first word Akaashi has uttered since they stepped into the shower.

He smiles into wet skin. Bites one cheek almost playfully. Akaashi squirms beneath him, adjusts his footing and presses his face against the wall. He's panting. Shivering, even though there's plenty of hot water left.

Kuroo holds him a little more carefully—the last thing he wants is for Akaashi to slip—and nudges his thighs further apart. His fingers dip between his legs, brushing so-soft skin and the unexpected piercing he'd discovered last night.

He wants to learn and relearn this version of Akaashi. Find out if he loves him as much as the younger version he first fell for and was too scared to do anything about.

He knows he won't have the chance.

Akaashi passes him the bottle of lube and Kuroo opens it but doesn't put any on his fingers yet. He scatters more kisses across the small of Akaashi’s back and caresses the inside of one thigh with his free hand. Slides it upward to squeeze and part Akaashi’s cheeks as he licks down his spine. Akaashi gasps out a harsh breath and Kuroo dips his tongue lower.

“No.”

Kuroo stops. There was a difference between Akaashi’s  _ “no, don't stop” _ or  _ “no, don't tease” _ and his regular no. He'd learned them last night. This was flat. Clear.

When he looks up, Akaashi is so tense that he's trembling. His eyes are tightly closed.

“What's wrong?” Kuroo asks, brows knitting together with concern.

Akaashi shakes his head, droplets of water flying from the tips of his hair. “I don't like it.”

“Really?”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry,” Kuroo strokes his hip, his touch meant to be soothing instead of arousing. “If you don't like it, you don't like it. It's okay.”

Akaashi practically sags with relief. Kuroo wonders if there were lovers in the past who had been disappointed or—worse—ignored his protests. Hopes that neither is the case and that Akaashi is just concerned about disappointing  _ him _ . What a lovely thought that is.

“Do you want to keep going?” Kuroo asks. Akaashi hasn't made any move towards standing straight or pushing him away, but he can't read the mood now. He's  _ always _ had a hard time reading Akaashi.

There's a pause and Kuroo prepares himself for another no, but Akaashi just widens his stance and says softly, “Yes. If you'll use your fingers.”

“Whatever you want,” he smiles, hugging him around the hips. Kisses the small of his back again, pressing his forehead against slick skin. “Tell me what you do like. I'll give it to you.”

“You,” he answers, “just you.”

Kuroo doesn’t hold out hope to hear what he really wants, the addendum to that sentence:  _ “It’s always been you.” _

He doesn’t hope. Akaashi doesn’t disappoint. His heart breaks a little more.

Because it’s  _ always  _ been Akaashi.

—END—


	13. BoKuroAka: Lingerie/Stockings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 20\. ~~Pet Play~~ Lingerie/stockings  
>  BoKuroAka  
> Mature 
> 
> Set sometime during university fic.

Akaashi was good to put up with their requests. He had very few of his own, but was always willing to indulge Bokuto and Kuroo theirs. Even so…

“What are you thinking?” Akaashi asked. He was willing, but he also knew better than to agree to anything without knowing the details. It was always a good idea to have the details with a pair of lovers as creative and enthusiastic as his.

They smiled at him, and it was their dangerous smiles. The ones that were a little shy—like they were afraid he was going to refuse—but were also eager and a little bit wicked. His favorite kind of smiles when it came to the bedroom. Not that he would ever tell them that. There would be no end to the shenanigans they’d cause then.

“How do you feel about wearing these?” Kuroo asked as they handed him two pairs of thigh high stockings. The ones Kuroo had were the kind with cats on the knees, because of course they were.

Where on earth Bokuto had found a pair with owls on them, Akaashi would never know.

He gave them a patient, mild look. “Outside of the house?”

“Only if you want to?” Bokuto sounded a little hopeful.

“Bokuto-san, have you ever seen me in shorts outside of volleyball practice? That’s not going to happen.” He reached out and took Bokuto’s hand when his expression fell. “But I’ll wear them in the bedroom, if that’s what you’d like.”

“Really?”

Akaashi nodded, offering a small smile. “Was there anything else? Because if not… I was thinking you might like to see me wear them with just one of your shirts. The black and grey, Bokuto-san? Or your red, Kuroo-san?”

They both groaned in unison.

“Fuck,” Kuroo muttered. “Kou, flip a coin?”

“Nah, let him wear yours first,” Bokuto shook his head. “Have you ever seen Akaashi in red? It’s fucking hot.”

“I am right here, you know.”

“And you’re gorgeous,” he grinned, kissing Akaashi’s hand. “Would you wear Kuroo’s shirt for us? With the stockings? Please, ‘Kaashi?”

“On one condition,” he said, certain that they were all going to like the conditions. “If I wear Kuroo’s shirt, then you have to help me put it—and the stockings—on.”

—END—


	14. BoKuroAka: Double Penetration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 21\. Double (Or more) Penetration  
> BoKuroAka  
> Mature 
> 
> Set sometime during university. I couldn't decide who to put in the middle, so I tried to leave it all extremely ambiguous so that the reader could choose.

Too much. It should have been too much. They were all three grasping at each other, breathing hard as they moved together, arms and legs entwined until it was hard to tell where one began and another ended.

They'd lost track of whose idea it was. Lost time. Lost everything except the need, the ache, and the feeling of being whole—three come together in impossible closeness. 

Kuroo sank his hand into Bokuto’s hair, pulled him close for a kiss that left them both gasping while Akaashi clutched at them both. They'd have fingerprint bruises on their arms in the morning to add to the collection of hickies and teeth marks on their necks and chests. 

“‘Kaashi, kiss me too,” Bokuto insisted, panting heavily as he reached for the younger man. 

“Bokuto-san…”

“A-Are we seriously going to still be so— _ uhn! _ —formal with each other?” Kuroo asked, hips rolling as he watched his lovers share a wet and messy kiss. “I-If there was ever a time to drop the  _ -san _ , Keiji…”

“T-Tetsu… Tetsurou,” he whispered, arching his back. “Is that…?”

“Better. So much better,” he nodded, cupping Akaashi’s cheek and kissing him too. A shudder ran through him as Bokuto breathed his name against his neck.

They fell into a strange kind of quiet, broken only by the soft panting of broken breaths and half-murmured words that trailed off into moans and whimpers. Sweat-slicked bodies moved against each other, kisses were traded and traded again, while hands grabbed at hips as their rhythm sped up, then began to fall apart. A forehead was pressed against a shoulder. Lips to the nape of a neck. Someone cried out and none were sure which throat it came from, because all at once it was overwhelming, exhausting. A little bit frightening—more than it had been when they began, when anxieties were soothed with careful fingers and smiling lips, when one and then two slick, hard cocks were pressed inside of a single, trembling body.

It was still too much. Not enough.

Declarations were made in voices gone rough and rasping. Words they’d said hundreds of times to each other, true every time, whether it was done in whispers, in tears, or in laughter. 

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Love you three.”

Shuddering smiles were given. Tears were kissed away with murmurs of  _ “It’s okay—we’ve got you,” _ when the end started to come and bodies already wound tight began to unravel. 

Too much. Too tight. Too good.

They came together—or close enough that it didn’t matter—with a strangled scream, a low, keening whine, with a harsh, choked gasp that meant to be a pair of names. And when it was all over, they didn’t dare move, clinging to one another as they tried to gather their wits and remember how to breathe. When they at last managed to untangle their limbs and separate their bodies, they couldn’t do much more than collapse together on the bed, weak and wet. Sticky with sweat and semen. 

Akaashi ended up in the middle. He sought out Bokuto and Kuroo’s hands, lacing his fingers with theirs before pressing them to his heart. He swallowed hard, throat raw and dry as if he’d run a marathon. Words wouldn’t come.

Bokuto spoke for him instead. “Are we all still alive?”

“Nope. Not even close.” Kuroo hid his face against Akaashi’s shoulder, trying not to contemplate how they were going to get cleaned up when he was fairly certain that none of them would even be able to walk. His legs had never felt so weak, not even after running Shinzen Hill half a dozen times. Akaashi and Bokuto didn’t look in much better condition, which was his only consolation.

“Yeah, me either,” Bokuto curled up onto his side, gathering Akaashi to his chest and reaching for Kuroo. “That was…”

“Yeah,” Kuroo sighed.

Akaashi hummed his agreement. 

“Whoever can move first gets to run the bath,” Kuroo said. 

“I’ll get right on that,” Bokuto snorted. “Just give me a day or two.”

“Hush,” Akaashi pulled them both closer. He was usually the first to want to clean up, but for the moment, he wanted to cuddle more, needing to feel their skin against his. His lovers took the hint and wrapped their arms around him, settling quietly. They drifted, lazily touching each other and enjoying their closeness as they came down from the high of adrenaline and endorphins.

It was only as they neared the edges of sleep that a voice rose up, subdued and almost shy. “I want to be in the middle next time.”

—END— 


	15. BoKuroAka: Stripping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 22\. ~~Glory hole~~ Stripping  
>  BoKuroAka  
> Teen+ 
> 
> Set during university. Music is [The Gazette’s “Art Drawn by Vomit.”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UKQ-iV5yy48) Awful title, I know, but I really love the idea of Kuroo dancing to this song for some reason.

The thing about Kuroo, Akaashi considered, was that he was at his sexiest when he wasn't trying. Take for example, the way he shuffled into the apartment, headphones on and moving in time to the music. His hips swayed and his back arched, showing off the grace of his lean body. He looked relaxed, confident.

He slipped off his jacket, rolling his shoulders slowly, lost to the music in his ears. Bending to untie his boots, his v-neck sweater gaped to flash a hint of his chest.

Bokuto and Akaashi, curled up on the couch with their movie forgotten, just stared.

Kuroo looked up as he pulled off his boots, blushing faintly as he realized that they were watching. He tugged the headphones down around his neck, offered an unusually shy smile. “Hey…”

“Don't mind us,” Bokuto grinned. “The show was just getting good.”

The blush darkened. Akaashi had always liked that Kuroo blushed. So did Bokuto, but for different reasons. He liked to tease Kuroo,to  see how dark his cheeks could go, but Akaashi liked knowing that beneath that too-cool exterior of his, Kuroo wasn’t as smooth as he pretended to be. He liked knowing that even now after several years together, Kuroo could still be made nervous by his lovers.

“Oh? You want a show?” Kuroo asked. Blushing or not, he could never back down from a challenge. Without waiting for an answer, he shucked aside his self-consciousness and unplugged his headphones from his phone. The song that he put on to play was one heavy with bass, its words repetitive, barely sensical English, but there was something undeniably sexy about it.

He moved slowly, stalking forward as he rolled up the hem of his sweater, baring a washboard stomach with skin still tan from their summer trip to Okinawa. Bokuto made a soft sound of appreciation and Akaashi sat up a little straighter. He liked it best when Kuroo wasn't trying for sexy, but damn if he wasn't delicious when he did.

He rocked his hips in time to the music, closing his eyes and lifting his shirt over his head. He shook his hair back into place—not that it had been in place to begin with—and did a lazy about face so that they were given a nice view of his smooth back and broad shoulders. Kuroo glanced over one of those shoulders and shot them a devastating smile. 

“Fuck, Tetsu, you're so hot,” Bokuto muttered, leaning back against Akaashi. “It's not fair.”

“You look in the mirror lately?” Kuroo asked, turning slowly, fingers working open his fly. “Oughta make  _ you _ dance for us, Kou. Right, Keiji?”

“I should make you both,” he answered with an impish little smile. “Just for me.”

Kuroo growled out his approval of the idea. “Fuck, yeah.”

“Next time,” Bokuto promised, reaching out for Kuroo. He drew him onto his lap, cupping his ass with both hands and kissing his throat while Kuroo continued to move in time to the music.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi took his hands away from Kuroo, “you’re not supposed to touch the dancers in a club.”

“But we're not in a club,” he whined, squeezing Akaashi’s hands as Kuroo ground down on his lap. The way he rolled his entire body should have been illegal. “Tetsuuu…”

“You heard him,” Kuroo ran his own hands down his torso. Bokuto’s eyes followed and his fingers twitched. “No touching.”

Akaashi kissed Bokuto’s neck. “Not unless you’re going to dance too.”

—END—


	16. BokuAka: Shibari/Kinbaku

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 23\. Shibari/Kinbaku  
> BokuAka  
> Mature
> 
> Not sure if this is another future fic or if it’s set in the Dom!Akaashi AU. Either way, ages are mid to late twenties and there are **D/s Themes.**

There’s a ritual to it, the binding. Akaashi is very particular about it. The lighting, the music, the color of the rope.

It’s a red night. Candles the color of blood, ropes dyed even darker, music slow and sultry, turned down so that it’s not distracting. Akaashi wears black, but his nails are painted a red so dark that they might as well be black too. Bokuto wears nothing but the rope.

He’s beautiful. Muscles strain against the position he’s been bound in—with the way he’s been tied, he can’t help it; just the way that Akaashi likes to see him on red nights—and his pale skin glows in the soft, flickering light. The expression on his face is utterly priceless, his wide eyes fixed on Akaashi’s every move and his mouth gone soft and slack.

Akaashi kisses him, dipping his tongue into Bokuto’s warm and willing mouth, just enough to tease. To earn a low, needy whine. To remind him simultaneously that he is loved and at Akaashi’s mercy.

“You’re doing so well,” he soothes, cupping Bokuto’s cheek in one hand. It’s a brief caress, one that Bokuto leans into and Akaashi allows it. He’s never punished Bokuto for needing his touch on these nights. The ropes aren’t punishments. They’re rewards.

He slides his fingers over the soft red rope. It criss-crosses over Bokuto’s chest, emphasizing his breadth, his strength. His shoulders are drawn back, arms bound behind him with something that resembles a spiderweb. Akaashi plucks at one strand, smiling at the resistance in the rope as it snaps back into place.  Bokuto shifts and sighs, dropping his head forward when Akaashi scratches at the base of his skull, long fingers sliding up into his unstyled hair.

Akaashi goes slowly, taking his time as he adjusts Bokuto’s position with subtle shifts. A tightened knot here. Slack in the rope there. He’s beautiful, and Akaashi creates art with his body, never pleased, never finished. It’s part of the ritual.

“Breathe,” he whispers, brushing his lips against Bokuto’s temple. There’s a shuddering intake of air, Bokuto’s chest straining against the ropes, and Akaashi lays a hand over his heart. It feels strong and steady beneath his palm. “Good. You’re doing so good, my love.”

When Bokuto looks at him now, it’s with a glazed, unfocused haze. Akaashi feels unworthy of such devotion, vows not to betray that trust. Ever.

He loses himself to the tying and untying and retying. The wrapping. The winding. Loses himself to the candles and ropes and music, humming softly as he works. The week’s tension melts away from between his own shoulders. He lets it slip away like an old coat, relaxes into himself. Here, nothing matters except Bokuto and the ropes. He creates. He refines. He tests Bokuto’s flexibility. His stamina. Watches him slip deeper and deeper into a space where Akaashi knows it’s quiet. Safe.

He reminds Bokuto to breathe again.

He saves the suspension for last. He always does on red nights. Bokuto recognizes it as the finale, even as far gone as he is, and smiles. Akaashi kisses him for it, wipes away tears from the strange amber eyes he’s come to love. There’s no pain in Bokuto’s tears, no sadness. Only relief. 

Akaashi checks each knot, adjusts the tension one last time, then lifts Bokuto off of his feet. He doesn’t struggle with his lover’s greater weight—he’s balanced each point and pulley with the expertise that comes with years of practice. Bokuto doesn’t struggle either. He’s too far gone to try.

“You’re perfect,” Akaashi tells him, though he knows that even now his work is unfinished. It always is. It’s the nature of great art, he tells himself. Bokuto is perfect. His knots are not.

He fusses with the suspension until Bokuto is positioned just so, his limbs contorted and taut while the candlelight flickers warm against his skin, haloing his hair and bringing out the gold of his eyes. Akaashi kneels down and looks up at him, admiring and reverent. For a moment, he feels like their positions have been reversed, because he wants to worship at this altar.

“Bokuto-san,” he says softly, using the honorific he hasn’t used in years, “thank you.”

He bows deeply and reminds himself to breathe.

—END—


	17. BoKuroAka: Exhibitionism/Voyeurism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 24\. Exhibitionism/Voyeurism  
> BoKuroAka, BoKuroo  
> Mature
> 
> Set in the Dom!Akaashi AU, so ages are 24/25-ish. No additional warnings this time.

He is, Akaashi thinks, a tiny bit spoiled. 

It’s hard not to be, when he’s lucky enough to own the two beautiful men in front of him. He’s sometimes overwhelmed by the truth of the matter. They love him and gave their hearts to him freely, trusting him with everything they were. He doesn’t know many who are as fortunate. Suga, maybe.

He traces their names on the soft inner skin of his wrists, smiling to himself as he watches Kuroo pin Bokuto to their bed. He leans down to kiss the other man, trapping his hands against the mattress with their fingers laced. Bokuto gives into him with a sigh and an arch of his back, looking utterly content to find himself beneath Kuroo’s weight.

Akaashi likes to see them this way. He has seen them frantic, wrestling each other for a dominance they weren’t usually permitted, scratching and biting as they fucked. Has seen them filled with a hunger and fire that he loves. This isn't like that. They’re gentle with each other tonight, their kisses interspersed with laughter and smiles. He loves this too.

Sitting down at the foot of the bed—orgy-sized, Bokuto once called it—Akaashi leans against one of the sturdy wooden posts. He remains clothed in loose black pants and a soft grey tunic. Bokuto and Kuroo have been naked for awhile now, but for the thin necklaces around their throats. The gemstones—amber and garnet—glitter in the warm lamplight and click softly against black bar pendants. 

They angle their bodies on the bed so that he can see better. It’s not something Akaashi asks for, but he appreciates it and tells them so. His praise makes them both flush with pride. It makes his chest feel tight.

He watches them move together like they were born for it. Legs twine, chests heave, hips writhe. Akaashi thinks that they’re beautiful and it’s only half due to their looks. They’re filled with love and happiness, stealing kisses and teasing each other with touches and banter alike. Kuroo’s quick wit and Bokuto’s infectious enthusiasm bring a smile to Akaashi’s face.

He fingers the tattoos again. He’s not sure when he fell in love with them because he honestly can’t remember a moment when he didn’t.

Kuroo takes Bokuto slowly, makes him fall apart with fingers and tongue long before he ever pushes his cock inside. Akaashi has to smother a moan echoing Bokuto’s plaintive groan. He can't help the reflexive arch of his own hips, but he forces his hands to remain still on his thighs. 

Self-control is something Akaashi prides himself on, but watching them is as much a torment for him as it would be for them. He's never asked them for more than than he was willing to give himself. It makes him wonder, ever so briefly, what it might be like to give himself to their command for one night. The thought makes him bite his lip and shiver.

Their voices bring him back into the moment. Bokuto is all but begging, clinging to Kuroo with his muscled arms and legs. Kuroo is murmuring something too quiet for Akaashi to hear but he's fairly certain that it's something simultaneously dirty and sweet, because Bokuto moans and kisses him like his life depends on it before hiding his face against Kuroo’s shoulder, fingers digging into his back. Kuroo smiles and trails a line of kisses down his throat, lingering over his pulse with a bite.

Akaashi raises a hand to his neck, idly smoothing his fingers along his collarbone, mimicking the path that Kuroo’s lips take along Bokuto’s skin. He doesn't allow himself to reach between his legs, forces himself to ignore the almost painfully erect cock tenting his loose pants. It's not as easy to stop the subtle rocking of his hips, in time to the more blatant thrusts of Kuroo’s. He wants to join them, wants to run his hands over Bokuto’s broad chest, wants to pull on Kuroo’s thick hair. Wants to kiss them both breathless.

Tension steadily fills the bedroom, something heated and beautiful that Akaashi will never tire of. Bokuto is at his limit, Kuroo not far behind, and Akaashi can see them both beginning to unravel beneath the pleasure. It's in the flex of their muscles, the cadence of their hips, the ragged wheeze of each breath. He bites harder on his lip.

When they come, it's with cries of each other’s names. Akaashi sighs out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He sinks back against the bedpost—it rests uncomfortably between his shoulders, but he can't be bothered to sit up straight. If he moves again, it's going to be to tackle the two exhausted men slumped against each other. He’s more patient than that, more dignified. That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

He'll wait until he has more control over himself. Until his treasured pets and lovers have recovered themselves. Then Akaashi will beckon them over to his corner of the bed and settle between their bodies, indulge in their kisses. He’ll wear their necklace-become-collars around his wrists, over their black-inked names, and whisper his permission. They’ll make love to him like friends, like equals, and call him Keiji just to see him blush.

For now, he just smiles and watches Kuroo collapse to the side of Bokuto, throwing one long arm over his chest and snuggling close to nuzzle his ear. Bokuto laughs, not the full-out sound that Akaashi loves most, but something softer and more vulnerable that he cherishes. Kuroo grins and kisses him, but he looks at Akaashi. He knows. Feels the same.

And Akaashi decides that just this once, he’ll crawl across the bed to them.

—END—


	18. BoKuroAka: Body Worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 25\. ~~Boot worship~~ Body worship  
>  BoKuroAka   
> Mature
> 
> Post-University. They’re all closer to their thirties than their twenties.

Koutarou let himself be pushed down onto the bed, sighing as two pairs of hands glided over his chest and stomach. He turned his head up towards Kuroo, receiving his insistent kiss with a smile. Akaashi waited patiently for his turn. Koutarou obliged, laughing, and found himself being simultaneously stripped of what little clothing he’d been wearing. Kuroo had that mischievous grin on his face and Akaashi had a light in his eyes that together always promised wonderful things for Koutarou.

He had never been good at math, so sometimes it still stunned him to think that loving two others didn't mean dividing his heart in half. Instead, his heart seemed only to double in size, with love coming back to him in surplus. It didn’t dwindle over the years either, as everyone said it would, when they were trying to convince Koutarou that high school sweethearts didn’t last, that a relationship like theirs wouldn’t last. Instead, he only loved Akaashi and Kuroo more.

It was harder sometimes, especially when their schedules kept them away from each other for too long, but they always made up for it. Always made time for each other.

It made them value long weekends like this all the more, when they found themselves able to get away from the city and into a small hotel near a quieter beach than those found in Tokyo or the tourist spots along the southern coast. When they could have every meal together and not be rushed for time. When they could spend hours relaxing on a private verandah or in bed making love, pretending that the world outside didn’t exist.

Bringing him out of his thoughts with a kiss, Akaashi trailed his lips down Koutarou’s throat and along his collarbone while Kuroo’s mouth found the sensitive spot on his hip and set to leaving bruises along the ridge. Koutarou arched beneath them, wrapping his arm around Akaashi’s waist and burying his face into his dark curls. He cupped the back of Kuroo’s head with his other hand, sinking fingers into his thick, untamed hair. Kuroo’s arm went across his waist, chest pressing against his thigh, and Koutarou breathed out his name, shuddering when teeth grazed over his hipbone.

“God, I love that I can still make you react like that,” Kuroo nuzzled his side. Kissed his ribs. He sat up to catch Koutarou’s face in his hand and pull him in for another long, languid kiss. It quickly turned heated, playful. He nipped at Kou’s lips before pulling away with a grin. “Like that too.”

“You afraid I’m gonna get bored?”

“A little.”

“Never gonna happen,” Koutarou assured him. “Right, ‘Kaashi?”

“The two of you could never be boring,” Akaashi agreed, leaning across to kiss Kuroo. The view they gave Koutarou was stunning, purposefully wet and messy. He whined, torn between joining in and watching. Akaashi solved the problem by leaving Kuroo’s lips to kiss his.

“‘Kaash… Nn.  _ Keiji _ ,” he flicked his tongue against Akaashi’s mouth, snaked it inside so that he could kiss him the way he liked best, hungry and appreciative and eager. That made Kuroo protest softly, so Koutarou kissed him too, let them pass his kisses back and forth until they were all breathless and wanting.

“We’re supposed to be taking care of you,” Akaashi reminded him, glancing over at Kuroo as if it were his fault that they got distracted by Kou’s kisses. Kuroo just shrugged and flashed his most incorrigible smile.

“I’ll behave!” Koutarou promised, leaning back against the pillows and holding his hands up in surrender. “Spoil me!”

“That’s not quite what I said, but if you insist.”

“I insist. Absolutely.”

Akaashi indulged him, just like he always did, with a roll of his eyes that was more fond than exasperated and a smile that was so quick Koutarou thought he imagined it. He stroked his palms over Koutarou’s chest, fingers splayed wide over his pale skin. Unlike Akaashi and Kuroo, Koutarou didn’t tan well, so their time at the beach was wasted on him. There was, however, a faint burn across the tops of his shoulders and the pink on his cheeks wasn’t entirely from an aroused blush. 

Kuroo kissed those cheeks, nuzzling into his hair like the cat Akaashi always accused him of being, and traced his fingers up and down Koutarou’s arms. None of them played volleyball competitively anymore, but Kou kept his body in top form. Both of his lovers ran their hands over him, making him melt back into the bed with every loving caress. They knew how to make him moan, make him arch and sigh. A palm against his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath. A soft kiss to his shoulder. Fingertips circled his nipples before being replaced with a swiping tongue. They always made him feel beautiful. Sexy. Wanted and loved.

Koutarou slid his hand into Kuroo’s hair again, pulling lightly as the taller man kissed his way down firm, sculpted abdominals. “Tetsu… fuck…”

Not to be outdone, Akaashi licked the pulse in his throat, one hand drifting down between his thighs. He played over the soft inner skin with a delicate touch, teasing and tickling until Koutarou was whimpering. It wasn’t the most dignified sound, but he couldn’t bring himself to care when Akaashi’s hand and Kuroo’s lips were moving steadily closer to his cock. 

“Relax…” Akaashi’s breath was hot against his ear. It didn’t help ease the tension building in his body. Made it worse, in fact. Koutarou was pretty sure that Akaashi knew that.

Kuroo definitely did. He was back at Koutarou’s hips again, leaving another mark on the Iliac crest, purple and vivid against his skin. He flashed a smirk up at Kou and reached for Akaashi’s hand, tangling their fingers together so that they could tease him together. 

It was wonderful. It was agonizing. Koutarou spread his legs wider and tried not to grab at their hands to make them go faster. It was all he could do not to give in and touch himself instead.

Akaashi kept kissing his neck and collarbone, only sometimes dipping down to press his lips to Koutarou’s chest. Kuroo, looking up through the mess of his hair, licked and sucked low on his stomach, purposefully brushing his cheek against his erection. Koutarou bit at his lower lip, unable to help himself; he rocked his hips upward, looking desperate and hungry.

“Not yet,” Kuroo said.

“God— Tetsu, come on!”

Laughing, Kuroo shook his head and sucked a red mark into his thigh. “No. Not until you’re begging me for it.”

Koutarou glanced at Akaashi, who was ignoring them both in favor of his throat, then back to Kuroo. “Keiji doesn’t like it when we beg.”

“But Tetsu does,” Akaashi reminded him with a lick to his chin. He kissed Koutarou, all soft and sweet, as if he wasn’t encouraging their lover to torment him. “I can’t help that.”

“You’re no help at all,” Koutarou retorted, but the heat of it was lost to a moan as Kuroo kissed the junction where thigh met body. It was one of the most frustrating, delicious sensations he could think of—and he was rapidly losing the ability to think period.

“Right there, yeah?” Kuroo asked, as if he wasn’t in the process of making Koutarou lose his mind. He had one cheek pressed to Kou’s leg and the other against his balls as he licked the soft, sensitive skin at the hollow of his thigh. It was a spot he had discovered by accident, and one that Koutarou both simultaneously cursed and blessed. 

“I— _ ahh! _ —fuck, I hate you!” he writhed beneath Kuroo, gripping at the bed with one hand and Akaashi with the other. 

“I know you mean love,” he quipped and Kou could  _ feel  _ the smirk against his skin.

“T-Tetsu, you suck.”

“Don’t you wish.”

He moaned, because fuck, that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t that he minded begging Kuroo for anything in bed—quite the opposite in fact—but he didn’t like to give in immediately either. Not when Kuroo was purposefully being such a tease. It was the principle of the thing.

Akaashi kissed him again, purposefully distracting him from Kuroo with deep, slow slides of his tongue. He sucked softly at Koutarou’s lower lip, pulling on it slightly before letting go with a fond nip and a smile. The flush on his tanned cheeks and the sultry droop of his long lashes made Koutarou take a sharp intake of air. Keiji was always so pretty when he was turned on.

“If Tetsurou won’t,” Akaashi whispered against Koutarou’s mouth, “I will.” 

“K-Keiji…”

“That’s cheating,” Kuroo protested.

“Yes,” he agreed, lazily kissing his way down Koutarou’s chest, “it is.”

Kuroo stopped him with a kiss before he could reach Koutarou’s erection. He licked into Akaashi’s mouth with a visibly wet glide of his tongue that made Kou lick his own lips and swallow hard.

“How about we do it together?” Kuroo asked, pulling away with a heavy-lidded smile. 

Akaashi smiled back. “Mmm. I like that.”

Koutarou was pretty sure he was going to die.

—END—


	19. KurooAka: Gags

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 26\. ~~Shotgunning~~ Gags  
>  KurooAka  
> Teen+
> 
> Set during or just after university.

The thing about Kuroo was that he had a way of putting thoughts in your head. Akaashi had recognized this about him from the very beginning. It was dangerous. It was effective.

It was irritating. 

From the first moment Akaashi met Kuroo, he’d realized that the older boy could talk circles around a person until they thought the sky was green and the grass was blue. When simple persuasion didn’t work, reverse psychology usually did. It didn’t work on Akaashi. At least that was what he tried to tell himself.

Six years later, he was still trying to tell himself that Kuroo’s clever words didn’t hold any sway over him.

That was why Kuroo was currently kneeling on their bedroom floor with a black gag cutting across his mouth. Akaashi steadfastly ignored the amused smirk on his face and shoved a small jingle bell into his hand. Just for once—once, damn it!—they were going to take things at his pace and Kuroo wasn’t going to talk him into anything other than slow teasing and even slower fucking.

It wasn’t even like he did it on purpose, which was somehow more frustrating. Akaashi didn’t like what that said about him or his own willpower. That he’d resorted to suggesting bondage and a gag was bad enough. Kuroo’s laughing agreement had been somehow worse, like he’d known exactly why Akaashi was suggesting it.

Akaashi couldn’t help but wonder if it had been some elaborate plan of Kuroo’s all along. Gods knew that their love life had always been—while satisfying and enthusiastic—a bit on the vanilla side. He tried to content himself with the knowledge that Kuroo wouldn’t have been shy about asking for anything, no matter how kinky. No, this was all Akaashi and Kuroo would never deny him anything.

He didn’t have to look so smug about it though.

—END—


	20. BoKuroAka: Piercings/Tattoos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 27\. ~~Branding~~ Piercings/Tattoos  
>  BoKuroAka  
> Mature
> 
> University fic. The return of long-haired Akaashi, although this isn’t the same AU as that angsty KurooAka. I just really like the idea of a more rebellious Akaashi letting his hair grow out after high school.

Someone always ended up on someone else’s lap when they watched movies together. That’s just the way that it was. Akaashi had long ago gotten used to the fact that it was usually him, so he didn’t protest when Bokuto playfully grabbed his wrist and yanked him down none-too-gracefully. He ended up with his back resting against Bokuto’s broad chest, straddling one thigh thigh with equally thick arms wrapped around his waist.

University-level training had been  _ very  _ good to Bokuto.

Akaashi let his head fall back against Bokuto’s shoulder, relaxed into the embrace, and smiled when Kuroo reached up to play with his hair. He took it out of the half-ponytail and let the curls—more defined now that it was long—wrap around his fingers.

When it became too uncomfortable for both Akaashi and Bokuto to sit that way, the darker haired man slid off of his lap and settled between his lovers. He kept one leg dangled over Bokuto’s thigh, but ended up half against Kuroo’s chest. Bokuto wrapped an arm around them both and petted Akaashi’s thigh the same way that Kuroo stroked his hair. Idly. Habitually. Ritually.

They made it most of the way through the movie before someone started kissing someone else. That was further than they usually made it, on these rare nights that they had to themselves. When they were all three together, free of obligations to school, to work, to volleyball. Free of exhaustion that usually drove them to bed for sleep instead of sex.

This time it was Akaashi and Kuroo who started it.

Bokuto watched with appreciative eyes as Kuroo kissed Akaashi, sliding a hand down the front of his jeans and making him arch back into the sofa. Akaashi turned more fully towards him, wrapping his arms around Kuroo’s neck and licking into his mouth. His tongue ring clicked quietly against Kuroo’s teeth and made him suck in an anticipatory breath.

“What do you want tonight?” Akaashi asked softly, glancing over his shoulder to include Bokuto in the decision making. Arms wrapped around his waist. Squeezed.

“I’m okay with just watching,” Bokuto answered, laying a kiss to his shoulder. “If I can hold you while Kuroo fucks you. Or, y’know. The other way around.”

Kuroo hummed. “I like that idea. Both of ‘em.”

“Me too,” Akaashi rocked his hips up into Kuroo’s hand. “Take my pants off. We can decide who tops later.”

“You’re awfully agreeable tonight,” Bokuto teased.

“I can be difficult if you prefer,” Akaashi said, his tone somehow managing to be both suggestive and innocent.

Kuroo wasn't having it. “Nope! No take backs! You’re gonna go with the flow tonight, and right now, we’re flowing to the bedroom. Last time we fucked on the couch, Kou fell off and cracked his head on the coffee table, remember?”

“Kuroo! I thought we agreed never to speak of that again,” Bokuto whined.

“You agreed. I never said any such thing.”

Bokuto looked at Akaashi with a pout, pointing an accusing finger at Kuroo. “And you’re going to fuck him? When he’s such a jerk to your beloved boyfriend?”

“Bokuto-san, you were dating Kuroo-san before I ever got involved.”

“Oh, right,” he said. Grinning, he shot a look at Kuroo, who stuck his tongue out. “Akaashi, we have really shitty taste in boyfriends.”

“You’re insulting yourself  _ and  _ Akaashi now.”

Akaashi stood up abruptly. Looked down at the two of them with his most put-upon expression. Said, “I don’t know what you two are doing, but I’m going to the bedroom. Join me when you’ve stopped insulting _ all three of us _ .”

Kuroo and Bokuto watched him go, partially out of shock, but mostly because watching Akaashi leave a room when he was wearing those particular jeans was always a treat. Then they looked at each other, declared a truce, and followed.

Akaashi waited for them on the edge of their bed, legs crossed as he examined his green-black painted nails. He looked up with a mild expression. “That certainly didn’t take long.”

“Yeah, well. I didn’t get to take your pants off yet,” Kuroo said.

“Then by all means.” Akaashi uncrossed his legs and leaned back on his hands, arching his hips up ever so slightly and letting his thighs fall apart. He arched one dark brow at Kuroo.

Kuroo didn’t waste any more time. He knelt between Akaashi’s legs, reached for his fly and popped the top button. He pulled the zipper down slowly, opening up the denim to reveal dark green boxer-briefs and the edge of a tattoo on his left hip.

Settling behind him, Bokuto pulled up Akaashi’s shirt, revealing pale pierced nipples and another tattoo: a swirling of feathers and stars curved along his right ribs. He fingered the tattoo, tracing the soft outlines while he kissed the back of Akaashi’s neck.

“You’re so pretty, Keiji.”

Akaashi shivered, as much at the words as the warm brush of air against his skin. At his feet, Kuroo pulled at his jeans and he had to lift his hips to allow their removal. Kuroo kissed his knee, then sat back with an appraising smile.

“So fucking pretty,” he agreed.

“It’s not fair,” Bokuto whispered, bringing his hands up to Akaashi’s nipples. He tugged at the silver barbells, making him arch back and gasp out a soft breath. “You were already pretty to begin with, but then you had to go and make yourself even prettier. You’re like… a work of art.”

“I’m hardly that,” Akaashi said, turning his head so that Bokuto could kiss his lips. “But thank you.”

Kuroo got up off of the floor to straddle his thighs, cupping his face in both hands and kissing him too. “I always wanted to wreck a work of art.”

Akaashi snorted. “Stop that.”

“Nope.”

Bokuto shook his head too. “Never.”

There were two options: Akaashi could either stop arguing—although the creeping blush wasn’t likely to quit any time soon—and enjoy their flattery or he could keep protesting and ruin the mood. He had no intentions of ruining the mood, so he endured the blush and the increasingly embarrassing compliments. It was easier when their hands and lips joined the praise, sliding over his carefully laid out ink and the silver studs that strategically dotted his body.

Akaashi always had preferred action to words.

—END—


	21. BokuAka: Roleplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 29\. ~~Watersports/Omorashi~~ Roleplay  
>  BokuAka  
> Teen+
> 
> After the Tokyo finals, before Nationals. **Crossdressing.** No actual sex.
> 
> Day 28, ~~Xenophilia~~ Deepthroat can be found as a BoKuroo standalone, [Good Morning, Snowshine.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8802349)

It wasn’t like Bokuto had any reason to be suspicious. It was so far out of character for Akaashi that he never would have believed it even if someone had told him what his usually subtle, undemonstrative boyfriend was up to. Akaashi didn’t make big gestures. Didn’t play games. If he wanted something, he said so and if he was trying to cheer Bokuto up, he simply did it.

So when Bokuto found the cute, meticulously typed letter in his locker, he certainly didn’t associate the mysterious “K-chan” signatory with his own Keiji. He thought nothing of telling Akaashi about it during practice. He was blushing in spite of himself, because the truth was that he didn’t get a lot of attention from girls and it was kind of flattering, but he absolutely couldn’t meet this mystery admirer without telling Akaashi first. He’d seen enough movies to know what a bad idea that was.

“It’s okay if I meet her, right?” he asked. “I should at least be nice enough to turn her down in person. Geez, how do I even do that? Akaashi, I’ve never—”

“Just be honest,” Akaashi said. He twitched a small smile. “Although… perhaps it would be best if you weren’t  _ too  _ honest.”

Bokuto grinned. “Right, right. We’re still doing the discrete thing.”

“When are you meeting her?”

“After practice. It sounded like she’s in a sports club too.”

“Do you want me to wait so we can go home together?” Akaashi asked.

Bokuto considered it, then shook his head. “Nah. I’ll call you later though.”

“All right.”

“Okay. Hey, ‘Kaashi… what if she cries? I don’t wanna make a girl cry.”

“I’m sure it will be fine, Bokuto-san,” he reassured him, then cracked his knuckles one by one before picking up a volleyball from the cart. “I’ll toss for you until practice ends.”

He grinned. Akaashi always knew how to distract him best.

***

Bokuto went up to the roof, darting up the stairs before he could lose his nerve. He’d barely taken the time to change clothes after practice, slipping his white track pants over his shorts and a winter jacket over the matching windbreaker. It had only been at Akaashi’s insistence that he’d bothered, the ball of nerves in his stomach twisting with every moment he delayed. When the cold bite of wind hit his face, he was grateful that he’d done it, but that didn’t ease his concerns. 

Every minute that he waited for her—had her own club activities run late?—meant that he had another minute to worry about her reaction. He’d never had to reject a girl before. Akaashi had said to be honest, but was that the right thing to do? Maybe he could just lie and tell her that he was transferring schools. Except that wouldn’t work because everyone knew he’d rather die than transfer schools just before Nationals. If this girl really liked him, she’d surely know that too.

And what if she cried? He never knew what to do when girls cried. What if she slapped him? Worse, what if she refused to take no for an answer and he ended up with a stalker who followed him around the school and when she realized that he and Akaashi were together, she started stalking him too, and what if she ended up being totally unhinged and tried to boil a bunny like in that old movie—

The crash of the heavy door interrupted Bokuto’s thoughts. He whirled around to face his mystery girl and his eyes went wide. His jaw dropped, because when he’d left Akaashi in the club room, it had been with a fond goodbye, a confirmation of the promise to call him later, and a distinct memory of the other boy changing into his slacks and blazer.

That was sure as hell not what Akaashi was wearing now.

“A-Akaashi…” Bokuto blinked rapidly, sure that he was seeing things. Never in his wildest—well, maybe his  _ wildest _ —fantasies had he ever imagined that Akaashi might be willing to wear Fukurodani’s pleated skirt set. The bow at his collar was tied neatly, its blue pattern matching the ties that the boys wore, and he’d chosen one of the oversized cardigans, letting the sleeves cover his long fingers in a way that Bokuto wasn’t sure if he was allowed to call cute. He even wore stockings: full black tights that were somehow sexier than a pair of thigh highs would have been. He’d gone so far as to roll the skirt up a good three inches higher than the dress code allowed, making his legs look even longer.

Bokuto had just enough sense left to put things together. If Akaashi was on the roof instead of heading home, and he was dressed up in the girls’ uniform, then that meant his mysterious “K-chan” was...

_ “You?” _

Akaashi smiled. It was well past dusk, but the lights on the roof were enough to see the subtle shift of his expression. Was he wearing makeup too? Bokuto was amazed by the amount of thought that the setter had put into this. He just couldn’t figure out why.

So he asked.

Akaashi shook his head slightly, crossing the roof with shy steps. There was definitely shadow on his lids and mascara on his lashes. Bokuto hadn’t thought that Akaashi’s eyes could get prettier, but fuck, was he ever wrong.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi breathed, his soft voice somehow gentler than usual. The shy smile on his face was nothing like Bokuto had ever seen on him, even when they’d finally told each other how they felt. “I wanted to wish you good luck at Nationals. I-I’ll be cheering you on.”

Bokuto frowned, was about to correct Akaashi—he didn’t think he was going to be on the bench, did he?—when he realized what he was doing. The letter in his locker. The distinctly feminine way he’d spoken. The fact that he was wearing a short skirt outside in the middle of fucking winter.

Akaashi was playing a role. A game. How unlike him. How intriguing.

How…  _ sexy _ .

Bokuto still wanted to know why, but he played along. “Oh, um… Thank you? Yeah. Thank you, K-chan. I’ll do my best!” 

“I really…” Akaashi hesitated, but Bokuto wasn’t sure if it was part of the game or because he was actually nervous, “I admire you very much, Bokuto-san.”

Both, then. Akaashi had said something similar almost a year ago, when he’d awkwardly confessed after a practice match against another Tokyo school. If he was nervous, it was probably from being so far out of his comfort zone, because he absolutely knew how Bokuto felt about him. 

He decided to follow Akaashi’s earlier advice and be honest, both reassuring him and continuing the game. So taking the setter’s hands into his own—Akaashi wasn’t wearing a jacket, never mind gloves—Bokuto smiled. It was gentle, fond.

“I’m really flattered, but… I’m afraid I can’t return your feelings. There’s, um. Someone else who’s very special to me.”

Akaashi blushed, the way he always did when Bokuto said such things. “O-Oh. I see. I hope… that this person knows how lucky they are.”

“I’m the lucky one.” He leaned in, pulling Akaashi closer and breaking the game, too impatient to see it through. “C’mon. What did I do to deserve this, ‘Kaashi?”

“Exactly what I said,” Akaashi stepped closer, dropping the feminine speech patterns and returning to his own. “I wanted to wish you good luck.”

“This seems a little extreme, don’t you think?” he teased, letting go of Akaashi’s hands to slide his own up smooth stocking-clad thighs. “Not that I’m complaining! But… I didn’t hit my head and dream all this up, did I?”

“No, it’s all real,” he shivered under Bokuto’s clever fingers. “You’ve been working so hard. Nationals. Exams. I thought that you deserved a reprieve from the stress.”

“So I get you in a skirt?”

“You get me in a skirt,” he confirmed with a nod and an amused smile. “Do you like it? You mentioned once…”

“Did I?”

“You were half asleep, but yes. I didn’t… take things the wrong way?”

“No,” Bokuto shook his head. “I like it. A lot. You’ve got really nice legs, Keiji.”

He smiled, blushing dark red across his cheeks. “I’m glad you think so. I may have overestimated the warmth of these tights.”

“Everyone’s gone home. We can go back to the clubroom.”

Akaashi nodded, switching back to the shy, girlish tone again, even though his face was amused and dangerously playful as he said, “Then… please take care of me, senpai.”

Bokuto bit back a groan. “My boyfriend’s gonna kill me.”

“I’m sure he’ll be okay with it,” Akaashi smiled, taking Bokuto’s hand and leading him towards the door. “Akaashi-kun seems like such a nice, understanding person.”

“He’s a devil,” Bokuto corrected, pressing him against the wall as soon as they were inside and sheltered from the cold air. He put Akaashi’s hands on his waist, slipping them between his jackets and his tee, where it was warm. “An absolute demon. I couldn’t be happier.”

Akaashi leaned up, kissing him softly. “Me either.”

—END—


	22. BoKuroAka: Toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 30\. Toys  
> BoKuroAka  
> Teen+
> 
> University fic. No actual sex. 
> 
> Oikawa manages to be a little shit without even appearing. Bokuto has no shame. Kuroo regrets his big mouth. Akaashi is done with all of them.
> 
> And finally, Day 31: Combined Prompts, can be found as a particularly smutty BoKuroAka standalone, [A Sense of Timing.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9868415) Thank you all for reading!

The thing about having two lovers was that there was usually no need for toys. Even when there was, none of them gave it much thought. Toys simply weren’t part of their repertoire. Not when hands and tongues and other body parts served just as well. Maybe that made them boring, but they had plenty of other kinks to keep things interesting. 

Their friends, on the other hand, did not seem to share the same opinion.

“Explain to me why you're talking to—of all people— _ Oikawa Tooru _ about our sex life?” Akaashi frowned at the box he'd just unwrapped from some very festive paper. “And why he can remember our anniversary better than either of you two.”

Kuroo shrugged, leaning back against their comfortable sofa and draping an arm across Bokuto’s shoulders. “I dunno. He's scary good with dates.”

“And who else are we gonna talk about sex with on the team? He's the only other gay guy we know,” Bokuto said.

“You shouldn't be discussing our sex life with anyone, Koutarou.”

“You’re just saying that because he thinks we're boring.”

“Apparently he's never met you two, because boring is the last word I'd use.”

“Vanilla, then,” Kuroo said. “And Oikawa likes to stir shit up; you know that. He's just bored with Iwaizumi all the way in Miyagi.”

“My complaint still stands.”

“We haven’t told him as much as you're thinking,” Kuroo reassured him. “We wouldn't do that to you, Keiji. We know you're private about that kinda thing.”

“Then why is he giving us something like this?” he brandished the box. It was shiny, sleek packaging. Definitely high end.

“Like I said. He likes to get a reaction.” He blushed slightly. “It's probably, um, meant for me anyway.”

“Kuroo told him he'd never tried any toys,” Bokuto said helpfully. “Oikawa was complaining about missing Iwaizumi—”

“—and bragging about Skype sex,” Kuroo added. “In detail.”

Akaashi visibly resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “So you just happened to volunteer your lack of experience with that?”

“Sort of?”

“Ugh. You’re pathetic.”

“How was I to know he was gonna give us a freaking vibrator as a gift!?”

“Technically,” Bokuto said, pulling the box out of Akaashi’s hands and reading the information on the back, “it's a prostate massager.”

“Thank you, Koutarou,” Akaashi said evenly, brow twitching. “I suppose you both want to keep it?”

Kuroo squirmed under that flat slate green stare. “Well… it'd be rude to return a gift.”

“Absolutely pathetic,” he reiterated with a heavy sigh. “Alright, then. I suppose I'll just have to resign myself to the fact that I'll never be able to look Oikawa in the eyes again.”

“Sure, you will,” Bokuto said cheerfully. He cast a wicked look in Kuroo’s direction, adding, “Since Tetsu’s gonna be the one doing the screaming.” 

—END—

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me about Haikyuu!! and Gundam Wing on my tumblr, [@crown-of-winterthorne.](https://crown-of-winterthorne.tumblr.com/)


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